


Talk Too Much

by goresmores



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alpha Carolina, Alpha Simmons, Alpha Wash, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And Lopez is a robot, Body Dysmorphia, Bottom Simmons, Depression, Eventual Smut, First Date, Frottage, Gland Stimulation, Insecurity, Knotting, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marijuana, Miscommunication, Omega Church, Omega Grif, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Sort Of, Takes place on Iris, Top Grif, everyone else is a beta - Freeform, post-chorus, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26336932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresmores/pseuds/goresmores
Summary: After Tucker points out that despite their years together, the Reds and Blues still haven't taken off their helmets, everyone gathers 'round to see what's going on under their armor. Of course, if you're Simmons, catching a whiff of the right scent from the wrong person can send you on an emotional journey you're not at all prepared for. What can he say? Feelings are hard, no matter how long you've been in love with them.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Comments: 23
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my contribution to A/B/O and grimmons. i tried to parallel running gags and the general tone of the show so hopefully it comes across. also, for context: simmons isnt a cyborg, grif isnt part simmons, church never died and (through a convoluted series of events that i will not explain) is still in private jimmy's body, although he IS epsilon and not alpha. also-also: the temple of procreation never happened!
> 
> lopez speaks in google translate spanish because those are the vibes

"I'm just saying, don't you think it's weird that we never take off our armor?"

Carolina and Wash looked at each other. Even through a helmet, they must know what the other is thinking because right after, Wash looked back to Tucker. "You guys don't take off your armor?"

Carolina followed up by asking, "Ever?"

"No! That's what I've been saying! Church didn't even know I was black and we'd known each other for years." Tucker threw his hands up, exasperated. Then he turned to Church, "I mean, he _also_ didn't know my first name," Church put his hands up in a placating gesture until Tucker turned away, "but if he'd seen my face before, his first question probably wouldn't have been 'are you black?' You see what I'm saying?"

Grif crossed his arms. "Why are you guys acting surprised? You've never taken your helmets off around _us_ and we've only been kickin' it together for a few _years_ now."

This seemed to take Wash aback. "I—why didn't I think about this before?"

"I dunno, dude. Trauma, probably?" 

" _Church."_

"Well I'm not _wrong_ am I?"

Wash sounded tired, but conceded, "You're not."

Caboose obviously found this to be the perfect place to chime in, because he was loudly asking, "Does this mean we are going to take off our helmets now? Because I… would like to do that."

Everybody shared a look and when a few of them just shrugged in reply, Tucker was the first to pull his helmet off. Wash, Carolina, Grif, Caboose, Donut, Sarge and Church followed.

Simmons had his hands to the sides of his helmet but he was clearly hesitating. 

"C'mon loser, it's not like any of us expect you to be anything other than a dork. There's no way you're going to be able to be more of a disappointment than you already are, Simmons." 

Simmons pulled off his helmet and glared at Grif. Except… wait a second. "We—we forgot about the scent filters." Simmons was flustered, his pale face flushed in an instant.

Grif leaned back against the crate behind him. "We already know you're an alpha, dude. Everybody knows each other's designations by now."

But that wasn't the problem. The problem was the fact that Simmons immediately caught the scent of caramel and coconut, which had him weak in the knees in seconds. Worst of all, it didn't take much longer than that to realize Grif was the source.

The number of betas was frustrating, because there were very little scents that Simmons could focus on to try and ignore Grif's. The only other one even half as appealing was Church's, which smelled like a freshly watered garden and lightning. And by now Simmons knew that had to do with the fact that Church _has_ the physical body of an omega, despite being an A.I implanted into said body.

"Soy un robot. No tengo una designación."

"That's alright, Lopez. I'm sure if you weren't a robot, you'd be an alpha this team could be proud of!" 

Simmons didn't miss the side-eye that Sarge gave him and even if he had, the phrasing alone was enough to have Simmons shouting, "Hey!" 

"Can it, Simmons!"

"Sé que solo estabas adivinando, pero el hecho de que sepas lo que dije es extraño." 

Sarge gestured to Lopez, "You see that, Simmons? Take notes! That's how a _real_ alpha does it!"

"You don't even know what he said!"

"Alphas don't have to make sense! They have to have confidence! Leadership skills! They can't just wimp out in a fight 'cause somebody hurt their _feel-ings."_

"So we're just going to ignore the fact that Carolina is hot as fuck, huh?" Tucker asked, gawking outwardly before everyone looked at him and he tensed up.

Carolina smirked at him, loose red hair wild from her helmet and eyes glittering with green mischief. "Don't even, Tucker."

"What? Don't think you can handle me?" 

Wash laughed before he could help himself and then quickly covered his mouth with his fist, clearing his throat. "Uhm, yeah. That's definitely it, Tucker. It's not like she's broken arms for lesser offenses than trying to hit on her." 

Tucker made a face, his features scrunched up. "Yikes, nevermind then. You can keep it to yourself, baby. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me." He shot her finger guns and when she lifted her real gun, Tucker pulled Church in front of him.

"Don't use me as a shield!"

"Don't worry, Epsilon. If I fire, I won't miss my target." Carolina winked at him and lowered her gun. "So, did anyone have any expectations before this?"

Church chuckled, "Uh, yeah. I didn't know Wash over there would end up looking like an emo Captain America." 

Wash flushed. "Listen—"

Sarge interrupted him, "Grif is just as ugly as I imagined! Maybe even uglier! Your mother must have been real disappointed, private."

"Thanks, Sarge." Grif's expression was bemused but he turned to Simmons first as he asked, "Am I the only one who thought Sarge was white?" He looked around as everyone shook their heads.

"What do you mean 'was white?' I _am_ white! Half, anyways. The other half is fifth generation Chinese, but I was born in _America!_ I ain't no dirty immigrant! Land of the free, hater of communism, proud soldier in defense of planet Earth!"

Grif covered his ears halfways through. "Jesus Christ, make it stop." 

Caboose lifted his helmet into the air, "America!" His big brown eyes gave him a harmless look, even though he was huge and his dark head of hair was almost impossibly messy. "... Where is America again?"

Tucker scoffed. "On Earth, dipshit. Your home planet?"

"Right! Yes! America. I love Earth. I was definitely born there, yep. I remember it like it was yesterday!"

Church was giving him a weird look. "Caboose being an alien would make a lot of sense, actually." 

Simmons huffed, relieved. "Oh thank God, someone said it!"

"Donut se parece mucho menos a un maricón de lo que esperaba." 

Grif burst out laughing, "Holy shit, Lopez! You're right but Jesus Christ, you can't just _say_ that!"

Donut whined, which contrasted with the fact that he looked like a completely average dude. At worst he looked metrosexual, but Grif could see him being in a frat. The gayest thing about him with his helmet off was his voice and the shit he said with it. "Grif! What did he say?" 

Grif stopped laughing. "Uuh… that he thinks your haircut is funny." 

"Lopez! That is just _rude!_ If you had hair, I wouldn't make fun of your haircut no matter how bad it was! Now, granted, I might try to fix it, but at least then I'm doing you a favor instead of being a bully!"

Lopez looked at Grif as he said, "Te odio." 

Grif just shrugged, clearly unconcerned, even as Lopez walked away while Donut followed after him to continue his rant.

"Deja de seguirme!"

"Stop walking so fast, Lopez!"

"Well, that's been enough excitement for one day." Carolina put her helmet back on. "I'm gonna do a lap around the canyon. Later, boys."

"Wait up!" Church called out, following after her.

Tucker chucked his helmet on the ground. "Helmets are lame! I'm never putting mine back on!"

"Tucker, don't throw your helmet on the ground!"

"Oh fuck off, Wash, what do I even need this piece of shit for anymore?"

"He's right," Grif agreed, "Aren't we supposed to be retired? Why _have_ we been wearing helmets this whole time?"

Simmons was flustered and he put his back on. "Uh, I think we should keep them on! You know! For safety purposes!"

"What 'safety purposes?'" Grif complained, "The only things on this moon are us and our sweet fucking bases."

Sarge chimed in, "Simmons is right! Retirement or not, we're still soldiers!"

Simmons winced as Sarge agreed, knowing that would only make Grif not want to wear his helmet even more. "Well—yeah, but uh, retirement only means something to _us._ You never know when we could be attacked!" 

"Whatever, dude, I'm with Tucker on this one." Grif tucked his under his arm, "It _is_ pretty sweet though, so I'm gonna set it up somewhere cool." 

Grif started walking off, leaving Simmons with Sarge, Caboose, Tucker and Wash.

"Right, well, I think maybe Carolina had the right idea. See you guys later." 

"Bye, Agent Washington! Don't forget to stop by for dinner!"

"I won't, Caboose!"

Simmons stood there for a second. "Yeaahh… I'm gonna go too."

"Simmons! Don't just leave me here with the blues like this!"

"Sorry, Sarge! Gotta go!" He hauled ass towards the base.

\--- 

"Just think about it for a minute. Don't you think you'd be more comfortable in your armor? Feel safer, even?"

Grif frowned at him from his bed. "Dude, get out of my room. I'm trying to watch 6 Underground." He shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth and ignored Simmons as he kept standing there, desperate to convince Grif to put his armor back on.

"... Fine." Defeated, he left and went to his own room, where he got into his own bed and laid down. 

God. He was fucked. He got one whiff and Grif and now it was all over. 

He spent years suppressing his stupid crush and all it took was seeing his face and accidentally getting a much better sniff of Grif's scent than he meant to for him to confidently say his 'crush' was much, much more than that. What was he going to do?

Simmons groaned. 

He didn't want to wear _his_ helmet either, but if he didn't keep it on, he wouldn't be able to avoid smelling Grif. Why couldn't Grif just wear his armour? Or why couldn't Simmons just _not_ be in love with him? Although, Grif not lounging around in sweats and well-fitted t-shirts is so much easier than _not_ being in love with someone.)

He was going to agonize over this until his death came, at this rate.

_Take me now, sweet release._

His face scrunched up as he thought of Donut and he mentally tacked on, _Release of death. Sweet release of_ death.

\---

As the days went on, the helmet split created a new status quo on Iris. 

Simmons, Sarge, Wash and Carolina had all chosen to wear their helmets. Grif, Donut, Tucker and Caboose went without and while he had a choice, Church opted to wear his for the most part.

Lopez, of course, had no choice.

Grif was complaining to Tucker, since Tucker was the only one willing to sit with him and relax without being an idiot. "Everyone that's still wearing their helmets is so fucking annoying. Really lets you know who the uptight ones are."

"I'll say. We're retired. We should be kicking back and scoring babes." 

And they were, minus the babes. The two of them were kicked back in the beach chairs outside the red base, soaking up the sunshine. 

Donut passed by in a speedo and said, "Hey, fellas! Catching a few rays?"

Tucker rolled his eyes and yelled back, "Yeah!"

"Good on you two! Vitamin D is important!" And then he proceeded to strut away in a completely normal fashion. 

"I stand corrected," Grif said as Donut left his view.

"He says vitamin D and my mind goes to the worst place. He didn't even say anything overtly suggestive, either."

"That's _The Donut Effect."_

They fell quiet, Grif leaning his head back and enjoying the warmth on his skin. 

"So… Simmons is pretty weird, right?"

"Huh?" He'd heard what Tucker said, but what kind of question was that?

"I just mean, the way he freaked out about taking off his helmet and then put it back on so quickly. Do you think he has a thing for someone?"

"Ew, what?" Simmons with a thing for someone? "You mean like, he smelled them and came in his pants or something?"

"Gross don't say that! Besides, we'd have been able to smell it if he did, whether we wanted to or not."

Grif considered it. "Fuck."

"What?" 

"I think it might be me, dude."

It would make sense why Simmons had come to his room specifically to bother him about putting his helmet back on. Not that Simmons was ever going to be able to convince him of that. Nothing short of some asshole landing on their moon and firing shots was going to have his head back in that orange hunk of metal.

Tucker sat up and pulled off his sunglasses. "No shit, seriously?"

The question was genuine but Grif wasn't ready for it. "Ugh. I don't wanna talk about it. I don't even wanna think about it. And if you tell anyone I said anything I'll kill you, got it?"

"Psh, yeah right. But fuck it, whatever. I don't care. Two conditions though."

"Shoot."

"Don't come to me about your feelings when weird shit happens and don't let me walk in on you guys. I don't want any part of that." 

"Ew, I don't even like Simmons like that."

"Yeah, and I've never had sex before. Sure, dude." 

Grif looked at him, confused and bemused. "Is that supposed to be you doubting me? Because to my knowledge, you've only fucked an alien and _you_ ended up pregnant."

Tucker's body language was wholly defensive, "No way! I've had tons of sex! I even banged your _sister!"_

Grif groaned, getting out of his chair. "Stop fucking reminding me. And make _that_ a rule. I'm gonna get something to eat."

He needed to get out of there ASAP.

\---

Of course, it was just Grif's luck that when he went into the kitchen, Simmons was there. And of course he was wearing his stupid fucking helmet.

"Hey, loser."

"Oh, uh… hey, Grif."

Grif made his way to the pantry, past Simmons and his lame ass bottle of water. He threw open the doors and immediately went for the snack cakes, piling up six Hostess cupcakes in his arms.

"Do we have any more Coke in the fridge?"

"Jesus Grif, isn't the six snack cakes enough?"

Grif frowned. "I'm not gonna be ashamed of my choices. Now answer the question."

Simmons sighed but opened the fridge and got a Coke off of the shelf. He turned back to Grif. "Uhm…"

"Just lay it on top."

Gingerly, he set the Coke on top of Grif's armful. 

"Thanks. Catch ya later, I got a hot date." He left as soon as possible, carefully balancing his snacks as he made his way to his room for the night.

As Grif was finding a way to lift the soda can with his mouth to avoid messing up the perfect carbonation levels, he wanted to sigh. He dropped the snack cakes onto the end of his bed and then set the soda on the nightstand so he could get on. He pulled the cakes forward and leaned back against his pillows, taking 3 of his collection and opening the drawer beside him to dump them in with the rest of his snack stash.

He cracked open his can, took a long drink and then reached for a cake. And with his cake in hand, he turned on his TV with the remote.

Stupid Simmons. Stupid Simmons and his stupid helmet. But maybe it was for the best, since he was so stupidly sexy and smelled like all of the best parts of Easter. Grif just couldn't help but feel robbed every time they were around each other. It felt so… impersonal to know what someone looked like and then have them walk around wearing armor when there wasn't anything to necessitate it. Especially when that someone had such gorgeous red hair and expressive features. 

Fuck.

Grif's hand fell to his cock and he rubbed his palm against it. Chocolate is an aphrodisiac and he's eating chocolate, plus... Simmons.

Grif pulled his hand away. 

Nope. No. He's not going to jerk off to Simmons, one, because _absolutely not_ and two, because cleaning up is a lot of fucking work. He shoved the rest of his snack cake in his mouth to distract himself and then he grabbed the last two to shove into the drawer.

He didn't feel like eating chocolate anymore.

He almost reached for oreos, but 'cream filled' came to mind and he shoved them aside. Ding Dongs and Ho Hos had similar problems, and Twinkies were obviously a no-go. Beef jerky? No.

"Jesus, why is everything chocolate, cream filled or suggestively named?!"

Angrily, he grabbed pretzels and two Rice Krispy treats out, tossing them aside and shoving the drawer closed. He put a pretzel on his tongue and sucked at the salt, shoving the tip of his tongue into the holes to get the stubborn pieces off of the hard surface and—okay. Obviously not.

Reaching for a Rice Krispy, he considered the fact that he was going to put it in his mouth and threw it aside with a groan. "Stupid fucking Simmons managed to ruin _eating."_ He rolled over and pulled his blanket over him, letting the TV drone on in the background so that way he wouldn't be agonizing over his thoughts in the dead silence of his room.

At least Simmons can't ruin naps.

\---

_You can do this, Grif. Just walk up to her and ask. The worst that can happen is she says she doesn't know! Unless she breaks your arm. But she won't break your arm! … Right?_

Grif gulped as he made his way over to Carolina.

After about a week and a half of avoiding the issue, he decided that maybe he should talk to someone about his situation with Simmons. Obviously, Tucker was off the table, and his advice probably would have been stupid anyways—so Grif figured his third best option was Carolina, no matter how much she scared the shit out of him.

Donut was his second choice regarding the topic, but far, far down on the list of people Grif actually wanted to approach for any sort of conversation. And the fact that he was more willing to go to the chick who could break him in half like a plump twig said enough about just how much Grif absolutely didn't want to deal with Donut, if possible.

When he got within range, he kept a safe distance before calling out for her attention. "Hey, uh, Carolina?"

She looked up from where she was fiddling with her gun. "Oh, Grif. What an unexpected surprise."

"Yeah, finally not napping or eating. Good on me. Uh, look… You're a girl, and an alpha, at least, so you probably know a thing or two about… relationships, right?"

Carolina looked at him, speechless and dumbfounded. It took her a minute to shake some of it off and say, "Uh. Is this about—?"

When Grif just looked at her confused, she waved him off. "Nevermind." She set the pieces of her gun down and looked at him seriously. "I have to be honest, Grif. I'm not great with relationships at all. My father was a mess, my mother was dead and I was so obsessed with being the best that I rejected the one person I ever truly loved even with every chance that he gave me. And then, before I knew it, he was dead."

Grif winced. "Jeeze."

"Yeah." She looked down at her gun, expression appropriately melancholy. "My point is just… don't be stupid. Don't miss out on the chance to have something real with someone unless you have a damn good reason." Carolina ended the sentence looking resolute, and directly at Grif.

He nodded, trying not to fidget with his hands. "You're right. I'm an idiot."

"Well, we've known that much." She smiled, but then her expression turned dark. "But don't ever default to me because I'm a woman again. I know all of us are a little on the repressed side, but Donut would be happy to help."

Grif groaned. "Sorry. I thought about going to Donut first but—well, he's _Donut."_

Carolina considered this before going back to what she was doing. "I hate to say that's fair but I guess you really got me there. He can be… bad."

"That's an understatement. And also he'd probably try to give me some stupid advice about being honest and growing a garden and living like some kind of homoerotic space farmer, which I refuse to do."

She seemed doubtful but vaguely amused by the idea. "I dunno, it could be fun."

"Fun for you, maybe. Dirt and cows and _work?_ No, hard pass."

Carolina shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm craving milk now. Thanks again, and catch ya later."

"Sure thing."

\---

"Simmons."

Simmons yelped and practically jumped a foot in the air. "Christ! How do you do that? You're so _quiet."_

Grif snorted, "What're you even doing? Looking at porn? It's not like I care about whatever nerd shit you're up to, dude."

Simmons was flushed, caught off guard by Grif standing in his doorway and the fact that he was being seen without his armor on. "What do you want, Grif?"

Obviously inviting himself inside, the door closed behind him and Grif looked tempted to flop down on Simmons' bed, though he refrained. His gaze focused back on Simmons who was not at all emotionally prepared for this. Any of this. 

… Whatever 'this' even was.

Grif quickly looked away and then shoved his face in his hands. "This was a mistake." 

The following silence hung there and Simmons felt like it was going to choke him with how thick it was. This pregnant pause was nine months along and fit to burst. 

"Uh… it's okay. You can say it."

Grif sighed and dropped his hands. "Just… don't wear your helmet anymore, okay?"

Simmons was beyond confused, but Grif seemed so genuine, almost like he was _pleading_ and everything in Simmons wanted to make him happy. It felt like a physical force in his chest, welling up. "O-Okay."

And now he was getting a weird look, great. "Wait, really? That's it? No argument? No calling me names or something?"

"Nnnnno…?"

"Huh. Well, that was easier than I expected it to be." He looked relieved, but he self-consciously crossed his arms. "Uhm, I guess I'll go now." 

"Yeah, uhm… later." He watched Grif leave despite everything in him yelling to ask Grif to stay.

Once the door was closed, Simmons threw his head down on his desk and groaned. The lingering scents of coconut and caramel were haunting him already, and he might as well have tattooed images of Grif behind his eyelids for how much he couldn't stop picturing him; his cropped short mess of curly hair, the tired, resigned look on his face when he first walked in.

God, he wanted to kiss it all better. 

But since kissing wasn't an option, he'd do what he could: not wear his helmet tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also fun fact: if lopez weren't a robot, he'd actually be an omega. he hates the thought of being human and i think being an omega is something he'd hate even more. labyrinth fodder


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drama starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iiiiim actually NOT super happy with the story but ive already finished it and tried to edit it into something better but the ADHD said "its done, next project" so ewhfjdnv i got burnt out actually writing it and the story is just. gonna stay what it is. 
> 
> im not gonna point out anything specific that i think is wrong with it bc then yall will keep your eyes peeled for it (and honestly, nobody wants me to soapbox before every chapter), but hey! if there's something you like, feel free to comment? id actually really appreciate it. and a shout out to everyone who's commented already! it means a lot and im sorry if i dont respond, i am just a humble but thankful rat

Simmons was as taut as a violin string. Grif was sitting across from him on the other couch and even though he wasn't paying attention to him at all, he couldn't stop staring at Grif's profile. His nose was wide, his dark eyes half-lidded and one large arm thrown across the back of the couch. He was so relaxed compared to Simmons, and it made him feel like an idiot. This wasn't a big deal to Grif and he's the one who asked for it! So why should Simmons have to freak out instead?

Grif turned to him. "Dude, if you need to shit just go."

"I—" Simmons choked out an unintelligible explanation and then shut his mouth. 

"Diarrhea?" 

"No!"

Grif chuckled to himself and kept watching TV, but clearly he was onto Simmons forreal because the next thing he knew, Grif was sending out calming pheromones. He could practically taste the coconut on his tongue and he accidentally breathed the caramel in deep through his nose before he flushed red. 

"Grif!"

The man in question didn't react beyond sitting up suddenly. "Wow, is it snack time already? I'll be back." And then he was out of the living room. 

With Grif out of the room, Simmons was able to inhale unashamedly, his shoulders slumping under the lingering wave of calm. Maybe doing what Grif said was a bad idea… but then, it wasn't the first time he'd gone along with what Grif said. This wasn't even an overtly _bad_ idea, since no one was in danger.

Except for maybe Simmons.

He jolted as Grif padded into the room and then flopped down on the couch beside him, except, well, _entirely too close._

"Here." 

He opened his eyes timidly and saw the water bottle that Grif was holding out for him, but as he went to grab it, Grif stopped it into his lap.

"Oops, shoulda been faster."

Simmons growled lightly, the tension now entirely frustration, "You're such an asshole."

"Said the dweeb. Shut up and drink your water."

"Fine." He cracked open the lid. "But not because you told me to." He took a deep first drink and then set his water on the table beside him.

Good, great, now he was hydrated and ready to assess… the _situation._

"Put mine over there too, will ya?" Grif was holding his soda out and Simmons took it without thinking, setting it aside. 

He realized how oddly relaxed he was when Grif gave him something else to focus on besides their thighs pressed together, but this was still entirely inappropriate and definitely uncomfortable! He tried to nudge at Grif casually, but Grif just nudged him back harder and ignored him, at which point Simmons realized that, hey, maybe using words will actually work.

"Is there any way you could… move over?"

Grif looked down, his expression betraying nothing as he surveyed his leg against Simmons. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I too close?"

Obviously! 

"Uh, yeah? Don't you think the thighs are a little much?" 

"Thighs? These thighs?" Grif put his hand firmly on Simmons' thigh and the larger man let out an undignified squeak in response. The sound seemed to catch Grif off guard and his eyes widened. "Oh my god. Did you just squeak?"

"NO I DIDN'T _SQUEAK._ SCOOT OVER!"

Grif obliged but despite keeping his hands to himself now, he didn't move far and he was side-eyeing Simmons with a look that said he knew more than he was letting on. "Alright, alright. Not a squeak. What would you call it?"

And so, yes, Richard Simmons is in fact a grown man. But this did not stop him from pouting at the accusation, or from pouting in part because of Grif's goading for an explanation.

Mostly because he didn't have a better explanation.

God he needed an explanation.

"Alright, pout then." 

It was quiet between them once more and just as Simmons found the right excuse to make, Grif spoke up. "Did I… Are you genuinely uncomfortable, dude?"

Is he? Yes. Very much so. He's very uncomfortable with all of this and would like to not be in this position. After all, he has _real, genuine feelings_ for Grif and now he's throwing scents at him and touching him like it's just sooooo funny to fuck with Simmons! But Simmons isn't a joke. He's a man. With feelings.

"Yes." Short. Sweet. Simple. Right to the point.

He wanted to add more. He wanted to soften the blow somehow—maybe even confess his undying love—but he wasn't going to do that. He watched with an ache in his chest as Grif nodded and got up, grabbing his coke and going back to his own couch. Simmons felt so stupid for looking, and for looking hard enough to see the dispirited expression that had taken the place of his earlier shit-eating grin.

Once again, the room was tense, and Simmons wanted to leave. He needed to _go._ Clearly he'd messed something up and now he couldn't face whatever it was. 

What a pussy.

He couldn't stop his hands from reaching towards the sides of his thighs and patting them lightly with his closed fists. He needed to say something, anything at this point. 

"Uhm, I'm sorry." 

He was on his feet and out of the room in seconds and it was as he was walking aimlessly down the hall that he realized he forgot his water. And he… really wanted that water.

Another foreign ache built up in his chest and Simmons pressed his back against the wall. He whimpered as he slid down to the floor and buried his face in his lap. He was practically about to cry and when he felt his eyes well up, he stood quickly, struggled to reorient himself and then ran to his room.

\---

"I hate him." 

"Dude, what?"

Grif sighed heavily and kept tearing up blades of grass. "I hate him. I was wrong. He probably likes _Church_ or something, because I tried to put the moves on him to be sure and he got all weird about it and then yelled at me—ergo, I hate him." 

Tucker gave Grif a weird look. "Pretty sure this is breaking rule number one."

"You _asked_ me how it was going!" 

"Well, pretend I didn't. I regret asking."

Grif groaned and flopped over. After ruminating on his mistakes for the last couple of hours, he's come up with a lot of explanations for what happened and each one sucked more than the last. 

There were loose blades piled up from his picking and in a moment of impulse, he put a few in his mouth.

Tucker wasn't having this. "Don't eat grass! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Grif shrugged his one free shoulder. "Dogs do it."

"And you're not a fucking dog." Tucker put his hands on his hips. "Jesus Christ, and last time you tried to lie and say you didn't have a thing for him. You're both idiots."

Understatement of the century, but sure. Idiots was a start.

His only response was a grumble and Tucker peaced himself out, leaving Grif to his misery, which he not-so-happily wallowed in until Church passed by with Caboose hot on his heels. Then came the million dollar question: did he want to get up? Because that was a lot of work.

Then again… the sooner he settled this, the faster it would be over and he could just drop dead already. Or something. 

Pulling himself up, Grif followed after them—which, should be noted, was no easy task since they had a head start and were walking way faster. By the time he'd caught up, he was wheezing and Church was expressing his rough-around-the-edges concern. 

"You alright there, hamster ball?"

Grif held up a finger and took a deep breath. "I think—oh God, why did I think this was a good idea—?" he straightened up and tried to catch his breath better. "I think, uh…" he glanced at Caboose. 

"Caboose, cover your ears," Church instructed.

"Okay! I love this game!" 

With Caboose essentially checked out of the conversation, Grif proceeded. "I think Simmons uhm… has a—well, y'know—like a…"

"Spit it out, man."

"A _thing_ for you."

Church started laughing.

And then he kept laughing.

It got to the point that he was wheezing before Grif finally got frustrated. "I'm being serious."

"Oh God, hold on." He pulled off his helmet and wiped at his eyes. "Holy shit. You're serious?"

Without his suit to filter out his scent, the weirdly pleasant smell of rain and electricity hung in the air. Personally, Grif didn't mind it. It was far from one of the worst scents he'd ever smelled, but… right now he didn't really have it in him to appreciate it like he might have in any other circumstance. Low-burning jealousy was clouding his ability to be objective about it. Plus, Church always smelled like underlying aggression beneath it all, and it was putting Grif even further on edge.

"Well, yeah. You're… y'know. An omega. And he doesn't like _me_ but clearly he likes _someone_ so it has to be you, doesn't it?"

Church shook his head. "I don't even know where to start with all the things that are wrong with what you just said but let me start by saying you're an idiot."

Grif threw his head back and groaned. "Yeah, I've kind of been hearing that a lot lately!"

"Can I uncover my ears now?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

Church rolled his eyes and pulled Caboose's hands away from his ears. "I said yeah, Caboose."

"Oh! Did I win?"

Church nodded, "Yeah, you did. Good job." 

"Yes! I love winning!"

"Anyways," he continued, ignoring Caboose as he squatted down to mess with something in the dirt, "if I can tell you that you're wrong and you don't believe me, then this is a bigger problem than I can handle on my own." Church paused. "Please tell me you know you're wrong."

Grif frowned. "He told me he's uncomfortable with me flirting." 

Church shook his head. "Even you should know by now that Simmons is Simmons. Just… I dunno. Tell him you like him or something. How hard can it be?" The pause after he asked was pregnant and Church glared at him. "Don't bring up Tex."

Grif shrugged, "I didn't have to."

"Oh fuck you." 

"Pass." He turned to leave. "But, uhm… thanks."

"Yeah, whatever. Just stop doing this weird back and forth shit and get hitched already." 

Fair enough. Although… "Who the fuck is gonna officiate a wedding on a moon?"

Church squinted, thinking. "Uuuhhh…." he genuinely needed a moment to contemplate this and then settled for, "You know what? Why don't you get his ass on lockdown before we worry about the details, huh? Now get outta here ya—ya big dummyhead." He mumbled something under his breath the way he often did, _"Yeah, dummyhead. That sounds about right. Why not?"_

Confused and not at all willing to unpack that, Grif offered, "Alright, well, catch ya later," and wandered off to think of a new game plan.

Going for a walk wasn't really his style, especially not after having to jog just moments ago, but for once, Grif found it helpful to have time away from everyone and just think. Not that he didn't do enough thinking as it was—but pretending be doesn't think means fuck-all to the swarm of existential and nihilistic ponderings that loom just in the back of his mind, waiting for the right bout of boredom or the most inconvenient time to strike.

As he was walking, he found a decent rock to sit on and plopped his fat ass down. 

"Alright, let's review the evidence." He held up his left hand and counted off the facts.  
1\. Simmons likes someone.  
2\. Tucker wasn't at all in disbelief that Simmons might have a thing for him.  
3\. Church doesn't like Simmons and claims that Simmons doesn't like him either.  
4\. Simmons doesn't actually seem to like Grif, despite everything.

and finally,

5\. Simmons is an awkward virgin and doesn't know the first thing about handling his feelings.

So… 

"Fuck it, I'll just ask him."

\---

Grif was pounding on the door and Simmons was doing his absolute best to ignore him, not that Grif made it easy. He was uncharacteristically determined, banging and yelling, "Simmooons! Open the door!" 

When Simmons failed to respond for the fifth minute in a row, Grif stopped. 

"Simmons if you don't open the door, I'm gonna tell Sarge you ate his leftover chicken fried steak."

Simmons scoffed to himself. Sarge would never believe that. If anyone was going to eat his leftovers, it'd be Grif. 

Man, for someone with a younger sibling he's terrible at blackmail. Isn't that the trope?

There was shuffling outside, accompanied by hushed cursing before it was silent. He gave it a few moments and after it seemed like Grif had finally left, Simmons sat up in his bed and sighed heavily. 

When he breathed in to replace all of the expelled air, he caught a whiff of sad omega—Grif's own distinct scent going from neutral sweetness to a pungent alcohol and burnt sugar smell—and immediately went ramrod straight. 

"Simmons, I didn't get to say it before but I'm sorry for what happened earlier. It won't happen again." Based on the footfalls that followed, Simmons knew Grif was really leaving this time.

… He should go after him. It's his fault that Grif is sad, right? But… Simmons just laid back down and buried his face in his pillow. 

Not right now.

\---

What did he expect? Well, not being avoided by his best friend. That much was for sure. Did he deserve it though? Maybe, yeah. Grif deserved being avoided too, but it'd already been two days and somehow Simmons hadn't been able to find him short of sniffing him out—which he would only do as an absolute _last _resort—even when he camped out near the kitchen.__

____

Now _that _was just impossible.__

______ _ _

On the bright side, however, a few of the others were gathered around the dining room table playing Poker, so Simmons looked on for a while in hopes of asking them if anyone had seen Grif lately. He had to give them credit; Sarge, Wash and Carolina all wearing helmets gave them a huge advantage over Tucker and Donut. Caboose was playing too but… well, they didn't really need helmets as an advantage over Caboose. 

______ _ _

"3 hearts!"

______ _ _

Tucker shot him a frustrated look. "Caboose, what are you talking about?"

______ _ _

"3 of hearts? My card is red? And it has 3 hearts on it. Do I Go Fish now? Because I didn't bring a fishing rod with me and that. Might be a problem."

______ _ _

Wash asked him tentatively, "Do you… understand the rules of Poker?"

______ _ _

Caboose looked down at his cards. "Yeah uh… I was told not to poke people? Apparently it's very annoying? Yeah, Church gets all shouty when I poke him. I just try to uh, keep my hands to myself? Yes. Hands to myself." He pulled his hands, full of cards, to his chest, as if they weren't quite _to himself_ enough.

______ _ _

When everyone stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond to that, Caboose just smacked his mouth and looked around. "I don't know what's going on."

______ _ _

Well, that's that. "Hey, has anyone seen Grif?"

______ _ _

Everyone looked at him and suddenly it felt like Simmons didn't know how to read a room. "What?"

______ _ _

"He's been in his room for the last 3 days, dipshit." 

______ _ _

Ouch?

______ _ _

"I don't understand? I checked there yesterday and he wasn't inside." 

______ _ _

Everyone looked down at their cards and Simmons could feel the subtle dig from it. His ego was by no means huge, but that definitely stung a little. 

______ _ _

"Closets have scent filters," was the simple reply from Wash. 

______ _ _

"Oh. Uh, thanks." 

______ _ _

Simmons turned to leave and made his way down the hall towards Grif's room. The door opened no problem and he stepped inside to see it empty. But if they were right… Grif was in the closet.

______ _ _

He walked to the back of the room where the door to the closet was and touched the handle, the door sliding open automatically. And sure enough, inside was Grif, along with the unbearable stench of his sad scent, B.O and Doritos.

______ _ _

"Grif."

______ _ _

His friend was conked out in a makeshift nest on the floor of the closet, his face smushed into a pillow and a dramatic snore causing a cacophony of nasally inhales, wheezy exhales and a slight whistling sound that Simmons couldn't even begin to guess the origin of. He gave Grif a gentle nudge with his foot and when that failed to wake him up, he thought better of it. With only a sliver of hesitation, he turned on a heel and left, going to his own room so that he could grab a book and head back. 

______ _ _

Once inside, he made his way over to the bed and cringed at the crumbs that littered it. Carefully, he lifted the blanket and shook them off onto the floor, but when he pulled back the blanket, he saw that the sheets were a whole new layer. He looked down at his friend and frowned. 

______ _ _

Why was he in love with a man who slept like the meat in-between layers of cloth and crumbs like a disgusting lasagna? It was beyond him, but he'd long since resigned himself to his fate, since getting over Grif didn't work and putting any sort of distance between them only made him realize how much he loves having him around.

______ _ _

Honestly, he should probably clean the place up before Grif wakes up, but he couldn't stomach the idea of leaving again, especially after being in the room for this long had already settled the anxious knot that has taken up residence in his stomach since Grif "disappeared." So no. No broom, no dustpan, just Simmons and his book.

______ _ _

He covered over the sheets with the blanket and made sure to tug it up high enough that he wouldn't accidentally come into contact with any of the crumbs underneath. Once he was settled in, he realized his mistake, because while, yes, being in Grif's room made him feel better, he could also smell practically _everything._ The sweetness of his sheets, the tang of his dirty clothes piled up in the corner and… God, the depression that made the place reek. It was a lot all at once, so Simmons opened his book and shoved the pages in his face. The old age of the pages was refreshing to his nose and he pulled away, opening it up to the beginning so that he could try and focus on the story rather than Grif.

______ _ _

\---

______ _ _

He couldn't help himself when it came to glancing at Grif every few minutes. In part because he rolled around a lot and the movement drew his attention away from his book, and in part because he's just… smitten. No matter how loud his snoring is or even how dirty his bed may be, the depth of their relationship as friends was more than Grif's flaws.

______ _ _

He just hoped Grif agreed and that this whole avoiding each other thing could be done with already. 

______ _ _

Unfortunately, while not keeping his eye on him the entire time was definitely less creepy than watching him like a hawk, it also gave Grif time to slam the closet door shut as soon as he woke up and realized Simmons was in his room. 

______ _ _

"Fuck, no, hey!" He got off of the bed, book left behind without so much as a _bookmark_ to hold his place and got on his knees in front of the door. "Grif, please. I haven't seen you in three days and I—" honesty is the best policy? He sighed. "I miss you." 

______ _ _

Naturally, Grif was giving him the silent treatment. That was fair. 

______ _ _

Simmons clenched his hands into fists and felt his nails dig into his skin. "Listen, I know what I did made me a giant asshole. I mean, I'm always a giant asshole but that was a new low even for me and I… I don't really know what I was avoiding because I never got to hear you out, so…? Will you talk to me?"

______ _ _

Grif opened the door, one elbow propping him up against the wall and a bored expression on his face. His scent had an undercurrent of aggression to it that told him he was definitely pissed off now, but in a lot of ways, pissed off was better than sad, and that was a start. 

______ _ _

"You're gonna have to call yourself more names before I'm fully persuaded." 

______ _ _

"Uh." Simmons' mind raced. "I'm a dork? And a loser. I use cinnamon toothpaste which just means I have terrible taste even though I like it but I know my opinion is unpopular, just like all of my opinions. Or at least most of them?" 

______ _ _

Grif raised an eyebrow.

______ _ _

"No, definitely all of them. Also, I have no balls, I'm miles past the point where 'idiot' is a valid insult, I probably won't ever get to have sex because I exude the biggest virgin vibes in this sector of the galaxy and if I manage to ever get married I'll probably be cucked because of my inability to sexually satisfy my partner." 

______ _ _

Grif snorted. "Holy shit, you really laid into yourself there." He laughed half-heartedly for a moment and then sobered up. "I was kidding about your opinions. Not all of them suck." 

______ _ _

" _That's_ the only thing out of all of that you're going to correct?"

______ _ _

He expected Grif to make a joke, but he was serious when he replied. "Look, don't get me wrong, you definitely kinda fucked up with that one but shit… I mean, I made you uncomfortable, I didn't get to apologize and then when you avoided me I did the same thing back almost twice as hard. Not to mention my room is a disaster, so I have no idea how long you were out there and how you managed to tolerate it for that long but good job, buddy." He was quiet for a moment but Simmons got the impression that there was more he wanted to say, and he was right. "You're not the only one who's more than an idiot out of the two of us." 

______ _ _

Simmons' shoulders slumped with relief. "Well, Washington and Carolina are proof we'd be able to still be friends even if one of us _wasn't_ such a massive idiot." 

______ _ _

Grif laughed, "Ha, yeah." 

______ _ _

They fell quiet after that and Simmons tried to relax his hands, but unfisting them just meant he grabbed at his knees. What was worse, the silence went on for a good while longer and even for as much as he wished he could think of it as comfortable, it just wasn't.

______ _ _

"I was gonna ask about the helmet thing. I mean, you freaked out about scents immediately and I'm pretty sure everyone noticed. Then you kept wearing your helmet which was just for the scent filters because who the fuck wants to wear their helmet around unless they're obsessed or something?"

______ _ _

After Simmons registered that this wasn't actually a rhetorical question, he spoke up. "Oh, uhm… Fuck, that's embarrassing." He was flushed now and he hated it.

______ _ _

"Yeah. It made me think that maybe you had a thing for someone once the helmets came off so I was trying to figure out who. It's not Church, is it?"

______ _ _

"Uhm, no. It's definitely not Church." A lie was on the tip of his tongue, so he ran with it. "I don't actually like anyone, I was just afraid that heats and ruts are going to be a concern since we're not getting UNSC suppressants out here."

______ _ _

Grif zoned out for a second and then looked back up at Simmons. "Oh. That makes sense. Wow, now I feel like a total dipshit." 

______ _ _

Simmons shrugged. "It was a fair assumption."

______ _ _

"Yeah, I guess." 

______ _ _

"So… are you gonna come out now? No offense but the Doritos and B.O stench is making my eyes water."

______ _ _

"Goddamnit," Grif crawled out and Simmons moved aside to let him out. When he stood up, he said, "I just thought you were emotional." 

______ _ _

Simmons smiled, "Well, that too. But mostly the smell." He paused for a moment before tentatively asking, "Do you… wanna shower and come over to my room? We could watch a movie."

______ _ _

Grif had started rummaging through his drawers for clean clothes. "Yeah, I'd like that. It's been awhile." 

______ _ _

"Alright. See ya then."

______ _ _

\---

______ _ _

A movie. 

______ _ _

Grif stared at the wall as he showered, though really it was less 'showering' and more 'standing under the water' because it'd already been ten minutes and he hadn't bothered to do any cleaning.

______ _ _

Sitting on Simmons' bed with him, knowing for sure now that Simmons didn't love him back. Being surrounded by his chocolate and marshmallow scent the entire time. Not to mention they sat all sorts of ways, but now that they have real beds they'd taken up sitting side by side, so their upper arms would touch and it…

______ _ _

He should have said no, he just didn't think about it. He was so caught up in the fact that they'd pretty easily put everything behind them (even though Grif was still the outstanding asshole) that he forgot to consider what it actually meant to watch a movie with Simmons.

______ _ _

Grif grabbed the bottle of shampoo and sat down in the tub. He squirted a quarter size dollop into his hand and started lathering into his hair. As his fingers worked it into his roots, Grif stared down at himself. 

______ _ _

Maybe it made sense. Simmons was fairly fit, and he was obsessed with being orderly, so why would he want a fat, lazy slob like Grif, right? Sure, sometimes he'd side with Grif on getting out of work, but overall they were just different people. Maybe too different.

______ _ _

They're friends.

______ _ _

He shoved his head under the stream and let the water clean out some of the shampoo while he gave himself more time to mope on the floor. Sudsy water flowed down around him and Grif closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see his oversized belly anymore. 

______ _ _

They're friends and that's good enough. It has been for years, the only difference is that now it'll have to be.

______ _ _

God, he's pathetic. 

______ _ _

Frustrated with himself, Grif pulled himself up and washed his hair in earnest, making sure it was thoroughly rinsed out before he moved on to his body wash. The motions were perfunctory and once he was clean enough, he didn't waste a single second getting out of the shower and drying off so he could get dressed as soon as possible. It was a relief to have clothes on—to hide his shame behind cotton.

______ _ _

But now it was time to face Simmons and Grif dragged his feet as he walked down the hall. He knocked half-heartedly on the door and then welcomed himself inside to see Simmons sorting through his movie library.

______ _ _

"Hey, Grif!"

______ _ _

"Hey." He flopped down onto the bed. "Do you ever miss DVDs?"

______ _ _

"No? Online streaming is much more efficient _and_ cost-effective now that the platform war has ended." He scrolled down his list. "Do you have any idea what you wanna watch?"

______ _ _

Grif settled back against the pillows, propping his head up with one of his arms. "Not really. You can pick. Just nothing that's part of a trilogy or has more than four movies in it." 

______ _ _

Simmons glared down at him. "You bastard." He looked back at the TV and sighed. " _Fine._ Pacific Rim?"

______ _ _

"Sure." 

______ _ _

Simmons started the movie and then leaned back. He shifted a bit, making himself comfortable and then looked down between them. Why? Grif couldn't tell you, but Simmons didn't say anything and instead just focused his attention on the movie.

______ _ _

His interest in the was practically non-existent past the colors and good background noise. Most of his attention was on the fact that even though he was keeping his distance, Grif could still feel Simmons' body heat across the sparse space between them. Even worse, there was the faintest hint of happy alpha permeating the room and Grif was struggling to not let himself feel everything negative that had built up. 

______ _ _

He didn't want the attention. He didn't want to explain himself. Most of all, he didn't want to ruin this for Simmons.

______ _ _

This, of course, meant nothing to his traitorous brain, who took the happy alpha scent and said _he's happy with the way things are._ And he is. Obviously he is, or else he wouldn't be happy literally Right Now while Grif is miserable.

______ _ _

"Grif?"

______ _ _

Fuck. 

______ _ _

Grif shoved his head into his hoodie. 

______ _ _

"... Do you wanna talk about it?"

______ _ _

"I'm on my period."

______ _ _

Simmons was silent for a long moment, probably fussing for something to say or do, and Grif huffed out a breath just before something crinkled as it hit the top of his head. He reached up and fished a snack out his hoodie. Grif held it in his hand, unsure of what to do and all at once he went numb. He set it on the bed by his thigh and laid there, considering his options.

______ _ _

He could get up and leave. 

______ _ _

He could say thanks and eat it.

______ _ _

He could say thanks and say he's saving it for later so he doesn't make himself look like a pig scarfing it down in front of Simmons.

______ _ _

He could even say nothing at all.

______ _ _

"Simmons… am I ugly?"

______ _ _

"What?" 

______ _ _

Grif was quiet because he didn't have the energy to ask or elaborate. He regretted asking immediately, and maybe by some backwards luck, Simmons actually didn't understand him and they'd pretend like it never happened.

______ _ _

"Grif…"

______ _ _

Or not.

______ _ _

"Why would I think you're ugly?"

______ _ _

He had lots of reasons at the ready, but once again, Grif was silent. He just shrugged in response and sucked in another breath of overheated hoodie air.

______ _ _

"You have to know I don't think you're ugly. I mean, no homo but you're actually—well—you're. Hot. Not hot, that sounds gay, uh, attractive!" Satisfied with himself, Simmons followed up with, "Still gay but I said no homo," like he'd really accomplished something there.

______ _ _

_No homo but you're hot._

______ _ _

At least it was easy to tell that Simmons wasn't lying to make him feel better. Grif pulled the hoodie down over his head and turned a little to subtly sniff at Simmons' pillow, because he wasn't miserable enough, clearly. 

______ _ _

"Thanks." 

______ _ _

"Y-Yeah, sure." Simmons hesitated. "Are you… okay? Did something happen?"

______ _ _

"It's just one of those days." 

______ _ _

Simmons held his arms up and Grif was confused. "What is that?" 

______ _ _

"Do you… wanna hug?" 

______ _ _

He was so endearingly awkward about it that Grif almost wanted to cry. But no. No crying. 

______ _ _

"... Yeah." 

______ _ _

He leaned into Simmons' arms and Simmons hugged him firmly, his broad chest warm and comfortable against Grif's cheek. It was so easy to feel small like this. Sure, in reality he was only about two inches shorter than Simmons, but with the way he was mostly laying down in contrast with Simmons sitting up, it made for a bigger height gap. 

______ _ _

Grif sighed through his nose and let his eyes fall closed, since Simmons wouldn't be able to see. "I'm sorry for acting like this." 

______ _ _

Simmons patted his back and while he appreciated it, Grif decided to use that as an indicator to end the hug. "It's alright. I'm sure you have your reasons, y'know? It's not like we really talk about that kind of stuff." 

______ _ _

That was fair, actually. They really didn't talk about their feelings much. Frankly the past month had more feelings out in the open than a majority of their years together. 

______ _ _

"Hey, if I blame it on omega shit, would you keep hugging me?" Fingers mentally crossed that maybe Simmons' alpha hindbrain would find it appealing to help him out or something, because Simmons was still his best friend and he needed the comfort right now. 

______ _ _

Simmons didn't respond, he just pulled Grif closer and laid back against the pillows so that Grif could partially lay on his chest. 

______ _ _

"I'm tired."

______ _ _

"That's okay." 

______ _ _

So Grif closed his eyes and let himself be lulled to sleep by Simmons' even breathing and the rumble of giant kaiju steps. 

______ _ _

And hey, maybe that littlest bit of happy alpha wasn't so bad the second time around.

______ _ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just guys being dudes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might edit this later?? but for now i used all my brain power on among us jhwejfn

After Grif managed to pull his head out of his ass, things went back to normal, for the most part. 

He'd emotionally pulled away just a bit to spare himself the worst of it, but he and Simmons were back to bantering with each other and everyone else and it'd been over a month since Grif's last _incident._ Currently, though, he was laying in bed and having trouble shutting off his brain.

He'd been having trouble sleeping for the past week, which was such bullshit since he had no problem napping and keeping a decent schedule before, so what the fuck? Add that shit to the list of life's great mysteries. Except, oh wait. It's not a mystery at all. It's depression. 

It's not like it's his first rodeo with mental health. Between his home life, trauma, college and post-enlistment guilt, he's struggled with his negative self-image for a long time now. It's all so… counterintuitive and he overreacts and he _always_ has and this stupid shit right here is almost entirely because he's been rejected by someone he's compatible and in love with. Fucking omega brain bullshit.

He gets abused, he gives up effort. He couldn't stand college and home so he enlisted and ran away. He eats his feelings away and while he just so happens to like food in general, he also feels like a fat fuck—which Sarge and ass-kissing Simmons were happy to remind him of. And the cherry on top of it all was that he couldn't stand himself and everything going on around him, so he'd sleep it off. Nap it all away. 

But he was tired of running away now. He'd made that mistake once with Kai and he couldn't let it happen again. 

It was a longshot, but Grif grabbed his baggy and headed towards Simmons' room. He knocked on the door and waited to see if he could hear anything from inside but it was dead silent. Naturally, just as he was ready to walk away, the door opened. 

"Grif?" 

"Oh, you're up." 

"Yeah I… couldn't sleep. What's up?" 

Grif pulled out his baggy. "Wanna smoke a blunt?"

Simmons hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. "Fuck it, sure." 

"That's the spirit! Follow me." 

So Grif led the way towards one of the rockier sections of Iris and used the easy stepping places to climb a few feet up to where he'd set up a smoking spot. 

"You can have that one." Grif took the other chair that he had leaned against the cliffside and opened it up so he could sit down next to Simmons.

"Do you do this a lot?" 

"Eh," Grif opened up his baggy and pulled out one of his pre-rolled blunts, "Occasionally." He stuck it between his lips and pulled out his lighter, sticking the end into the plasma current. It lit up and he took a drag. 

He passed it to Simmons and closed the baggy, putting it back in his pocket. Grif tilted his head back, holding the smoke in his lungs and then letting it out above him. Once it had cleared, he looked to his right to see Simmons hesitate for only a second before putting it in his mouth. He took a decent drag and passed it back, trying to do the same as Grif but with a shorter hold time. 

It seemed practiced, just not habitual like Grif.

"You smoked before?" 

"In high school. There was this stoner kid who paid me to do his homework for him and sometimes he'd let me have a hit." 

"Ooh, a hit. Look at you. Simmons is down with the lingo." 

Simmons laughed. "Shut up. It's just weed." 

Grif smoked and repeated before he offered, "The Devil's lettuce." 

"Mary Jane." 

Simmons took it as Grif passed it back. 

"That good grigity." 

Simmons snorted, "I've never heard that before." 

"Shit, really? This dude in college used to say it all the time. It was never not funny." 

They were quiet as they kept smoking, until eventually Simmons laughed again. "Dude I can already feel it." 

"Seriously? Fucker. It's gonna take me a minute." He kept smoking and before he went in for a second one asked, "You mind?"

"Nah." 

It wasn't too much longer before it hit and Grif relaxed even further into his seat.

"Where did you even get weed?"

"You'd be surprised, man. Honestly if we get to stay here long enough, I might start growing it myself." 

"Isn't that a lot of work?"

"Ugh, don't remind me." He passed the blunt to Simmons and rested his head on his shoulder own shoulder so that he could look at his friend.

God he's… fucking sexy. The way his lips wrap around the blunt, the stupid face he makes when he inhales. He holds it between his ridiculously big fingers in his even bigger hands and Grif can feel his groin stir easily. 

Simmons blows the smoke out and rolls his head to look at Grif with this half-lidded, lazy smile and Grif wants to kiss him. And that's what makes it so convenient when Simmons asks, "Have you ever shotgunned before?"

It takes Grif way longer than it should to process what Simmons asked him. "Wait… Fuck, what way do you mean?"

"What do you mean? I thought there was only one way?"

"Which way is that?"

"Y'know, with the—where you blow on it." 

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, you wanna try it?" 

"If it's alright." 

Grif sat forward in his chair. "'Course it is. Lemme see." He held his hand out and Simmons gave him what was left. "Good thing you asked now, we've almost got a roach." It was a bit of an exaggeration, but they'd been smoking for awhile now.

Simmons lolled his head away. "Why do they call it that? That's so gross." 

"I dunno, 'cause it looks like a roach? That's just what it is. C'mon." He put the lit end between his teeth and Simmons tentatively put the other end near his mouth. Once they were situated, Grif raised his eyebrows and when Simmons raised his back, he blew so that Simmons could suck. 

Once Simmons pulled away, Grif pulled it out of his mouth and finally let himself think the obvious. Smoking together like this was an indirect kiss. 

"That's so lame," he complained out loud. 

Oops.

"What is?" 

He hesitated on how to phrase it and then decided on, "I'm a grown ass man but sometimes I have these sixth grade thoughts. Like fuckin', 'tehee, sixty-nine.' Whoopdee-fucking-doo, it's the sex number, numbnuts." 

"As much as I love the guy, at least that's nowhere near Caboose's level." 

"Fuck. I'm almost scared to know what's going on inside his head." 

"Yeah…" Simmons trailed off, staring at the light of the other moon. "What are the other ways?"

Goddamnit. He was _so_ close. 

"There's the uh, the tunnel and the kissing one."

"Can we try those too?"

Grif raised an eyebrow, judgemental and confused. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, y'know. For the experience." 

For the experience, he says. "Sure. Tunnel first." 

Because he knew what was coming after the tunnel, it was over far too quickly, even for as slow and hazy as everything was. Simmons sucked the air through it and after he held, he blew. 

"Let me do the next one." Simmons scooted his chair the slightest bit closer. 

"Alright. Just uh, y'know, it's like kissing, but not. You've kissed before, right Simmons?" The frown that followed was hilarious and Grif couldn't help but snort and lean against Simmons' shoulder as he laughed. 

"Yes, I've kissed before. It wasn't like—it wasn't _good,_ but I _have."_

Grif smiled against his arm and leaned back. "Feel free to change that now if you want to. I've got a lot of experience with my tongue." 

He was joking. It was a joke. 

Simmons licked his lips before he put the blunt to his mouth and his gaze was intense. Grif's cock twitched and when Simmons leaned in, he opened his mouth, not bothering to lean forward for this one. Let Simmons do all the work, since he volunteered. 

Grif felt the slightest touch of lips against his own and breathed in, inhaling the smoke and and the scent of s'mores. The only problem with this was that Simmons didn't really pull _away_ just… _back._ His face was almost too close for comfort and Grif wasn't sure what to say or do because all he wanted to do was bring their lips together forreal this time, but he shouldn't do that. 

"Simmons?" Smoke followed his words and Simmons' eyes followed it. 

"I love the sensory aspect of being high." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Let me see your hand?" 

He held his hand out and Simmons took it with both of his own. His palm cupped the back of Grif's hand and he slid his fingertips down Grif's fingers and into his palm. He switched to his thumb and traced the lines that personalized Grif's palm; slow, lazy trails along the creases. 

Grif shivered at the intimate feeling of skin against skin. He wasn't used to people touching his hands. He wasn't really used to touch in general. 

War did that.

Fuck it, right? If this is what they're doing now. 

Using his free hand, Grif put his hand to Simmons' and stroked it with his thumb. "Like that?"

Simmons hummed and lifted Grif's hand so that he could shift its positioning, his fingers sliding between Grif's so that they were holding hands now. 

"Your hands are warm." 

"So are yours, dude." 

It seemed like he was just gravitating towards Grif because Simmons held his hand and leaned his head on Grif's shoulder. The angle was awkward, but he didn't seem to mind, even as Grif used their other hands to keep exploring.

"We should go back." 

"Mm-mm." Simmons sighed through his nose and cuddled closer, despite the arm of the chair that definitely had to be digging into his side. 

Well said. 

\--- 

"Estás invadiendo." 

Simmons woke up abruptly and looked around.

"Abandona este lugar."

"Lopez?"

"Si. Despierta al gordo."

Grif was asleep beside him and Simmons had no idea what was going on. He felt bad about it but he needed to wake him up.

"Grif. Hey, Grif." He shook him, and Grif woke up with a start. 

"Who did it?!" He gripped the handle of his chair and after he'd gotten his bearings, he glared at Simmons. "You know I hate being woken up." 

"I'm sorry, but Lopez is trying to say something." 

He tossed his head back and sighed. "What, Lopez?" 

"Vete." 

"Oh fuck you. Just because you disappeared for a month and claimed the mountain for yourself doesn't mean you own it now. Robots don't have rights and I claimed this spot before you did so why don't _you_ go away?" 

"Tú ganas este, idiota, pero me vengaré." Lopez stomped off and left them alone again.

"What the hell was that about?" 

Grif stood up and cracked his back, while Simmons marveled at the fact that his face was still warm from where he'd been resting against Grif. Oh, God. Last night was _so much._

"Lopez was just being an asshole. I swear, once you understand what he's saying he's a real dick sometimes." He offered Simmons a hand and helped him up, which he took gratefully. 

Sleeping in a plastic chair was a bad idea, because now his back was killing him. "I'm too old for this," Simmons complained. 

"You're thirty-one."

"And I'm _old."_

"C'mon, old man, let's go get some breakfast. I'm starving." Grif led them back down to ground-level and when they started walking back towards the Red base, Simmons grabbed his hand.

Grif tensed up beside him and Simmons realized his mistake, letting go as soon he caught himself. "Shit, that's awkward. I'm sorry." 

"I mean…" Grif stared at the ground as they walked, "I'm not the only one who thought that the last two times we've fallen asleep were like, really good for us, right? Not, y'know, in a gay way, like you said, but—mental health. Emotions. Alpha and omega shit. I dunno." 

"N-no, yeah, that's it! It's an instinct thing." Liar. "Like when you uh, when you wanted me to hug you."

"Alright. No problem then. We're just dudes helping each other out."

"Yeah, just… just guys being dudes." 

The implication had Simmons sweating, but Grif held his hand out and Simmons held it again, his heartbeat thundering in his chest. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh God._

It was awkward, to say the least. They'd never done this before and the fact that Simmons had lied _again_ was driving him crazy. He was making excuses for himself to keep touching Grif—Grif is sad, I'm high it's okay, it's just an alpha thing—and the part that worried him the most was that he couldn't find it in himself to feel bad about it.

He wasn't doing anything Grif didn't want, and it's not like taking advantage of him or something, he's just… bringing a new element to their friendship. And even better, it's mutually beneficial! Why should he feel bad about that?

Simmons' hand was cold, so Grif's was doing a fantastic job of warming his up. Ugh, they wouldn't even have hand sweat problems. That was the power of thermodynamic equilibrium. _We'remadeforeachother. Matematematemate._

Haha. _Shut up brain._

Grif ripped his hand away and Simmons had to hold back an embarrassing whine. He looked at their disconnected hands and Grif gave him a light elbow in the ribs. 

"That didn't actually hurt but _ow!_ My ribs!" 

"I don't know if you know this, but everyone thinks we're in love and I don't want them to give you shit for holding my hand." He shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned the rest of the way to the base.

When they passed by Church, Caboose and Wash, Simmons asked, "I don't understand? Why do they think that?" 

"Beats me, but I blame Tucker." 

Simmons followed Grif into the kitchen and watched from a distance as he slung open the freezer and jerked two breakfast burritos out of the bag. He was leaking aggression scent and it was making Simmons anxious. 

"Grif?"

"Fuck!" He'd closed the door and he slumped, taking in a breath. "I'm sorry. Did you want one?"

"Yes, but you need to calm down." Simmons sent out calming pheromones and offered his wrist to Grif. 

Grif took it and shoved his nose near the scent gland there, breathing in and relaxing. It took a little bit longer than Simmons thought it might, but eventually Grif pulled away. 

"Good?"

"Yeah. Thank you." He grabbed another burrito out of the freezer and put it on the plate with his own. "Three birds, one stone." He popped it in the microwave and stood back. Grif glanced around and then asked in a low voice, "So… are we just gonna start… doing stuff like that now? Like friends with benefits?"

Simmons flushed bright red, "Don't phrase it like that!"

"Well am I wrong?? What would _you_ call it?" 

"Uh," fuck, come on, think of something! "Really good friends?" 

Grif laughed, loud and sudden. "That's so—" His laugh was so sweet and Simmons felt his stomach flutter with affection. "You're such a dork, Simmons." 

"Yeah, well, when you think of something better, we can change it." 

The microwave dinged and Grif grabbed their plate. "Nah… really good friends is perfect." He offered Simmons his burrito but he declined. 

"Just this once… we can eat in my room." He was feeling lazy today and sitting in a chair at the table made his skeleton want to jump ship prematurely. 

Grif raised their plate. "We should get high more often if you're always gonna be this cool! Dude, get drinks. We didn't drink anything last night and I ran out of spit like six hours ago."

"Ew. Fine, but I'm getting us water."

"Ugh, you're the worst. I could eat your burrito, y'know. It'd be gone before you even had the chance." 

Simmons chuckled, pulling open the fridge to get two bottles of water. "You love me too much."

"Debatable. You're trying to make me drink water. That's not love. That's a punishment. I'd rather drink soy sauce like back in Blood Gulch." 

Simmons cringed, meeting up with Grif so they could walk together. "That's disgusting. Please just drink water if it's an option." 

"Psh, whatever, _dad."_

Once they were in Simmons' room, Grif set the plate down to get on the bed and Simmons joined him, passing him a water. Grif drank it, despite his obvious contempt and then tucked into his burritos. 

"Please tell me we're here so we can get some actual sleep." 

"Of course we are." He had to stop himself from asking if that was okay. 

"Oh thank God. It's way too early to be up." Grif finished his last bite and then laid back, wrapping his arms around the pillow on his side of the bed. He watched Simmons finish his water and then put the bottles on the plate so he could set it all aside at once. 

Simmons paused for a moment, torn. He wanted his hands on Grif in any way he could, but… how the hell was he going to do that? He laid down, facing Grif who already looked tired. 

"You know how there are all those stereotypes about alphas and omegas 'n shit?"

"Yeah? What about 'em?"

"Does me asking you for help do anything for you?" 

Shit. How to answer that? 

"Uhm, sort of, I guess. But I mean, I also want to help you because I'm your friend, y'know?" 

"Makes sense." 

"What about you?" 

"Eh, I'm not really big on the dominant alpha shit. I mean, it's nice to be taken care of sometimes, and like… coming to your room doesn't hurt, but y'know." He frowned, and Simmons wanted to know why. "The growling, posturing shit is annoying. Honestly I'm glad the scariest alpha out of all of us is Carolina because she has better shit to do than throw her weight around with us." 

Simmons considered this. "I think she'd definitely be the alpha prime if we were actually a pack."

"Oh, without a doubt, dude." 

"But… I'm not completely immune. Like when you were sad, your scent changed and I wanted to make you feel better. Still though, that's not an explicitly biological reaction." 

Grif didn't have much to say about that and his eyes wandered around the room. "I dunno about you but my biology says we should spoon." 

Simmons' heart picked up. "My biology agrees." He moved to put his arm around Grif but Grif moved his arm away. 

"You mind if I be the big spoon?"

Simmons flushed. "Uh, no, sure." He rolled over so he was facing away from Grif and Grif wrapped his arm around him. They situated themselves closer, and Simmons couldn't tell if Grif was specifically trying to avoid putting his crotch anywhere near Simmons' ass, but either way, he still managed to worm his legs in-between Simmons' and tangle them up. 

He was stiff in Grif's hold. He wasn't used to stuff like this, but he tried to close his eyes and relax into the mattress, despite how impossible it seemed right now. Still… it was a lot of work. Trying to match his breathing with Grif's (who had already fallen asleep behind him) and focusing on the comfortable warmth of his chest pressed against Simmons' back. 

He adjusted himself while trying to not disturb Grif and eventually found a good position. 

As he finally settled down, he had to wonder: _What would have happened if I'd told him the truth?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this slowburn?? ive debated that for weeks and its not as slow as id like but its slowburn in spirit, at the very least. i dont think "in spirit" is generally a good enough qualifier tho

"Goddamnit, Grif!"

Grif just side-eyed him and kept brushing his teeth. With _Simmons'_ toothbrush. _Again._

After he'd brushed to his heart's content, Grif spit into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. "What? I can share your bed and eat your snacks and cook you a burrito but you're gonna make me walk all the way down the hall to use my own toothbrush?" 

"YES! Why are you asking me that like I’m being unreasonable?!" 

He washed off the toothbrush and handed it to Simmons.

Simmons slapped it out of his hand and it landed in the sink next to Grif's glob of toothpaste. "I don't want it now! You put it in your mouth!"

"Well it's been in _your_ mouth and that wasn't an issue for me." 

"That's because you're disgusting! And clean your toothpaste out of the sink!" And for his trouble, Simmons got to watch in horror as Grif turned on the faucet, rubbed at it with his finger and then turned to leave. "Wash your hands!" 

"Sorry, I'm busy!" 

"You're getting back into bed!"

"I'm just _so_ busy," he exaggerated, covering himself up with the blanket, "I promise I'll pencil you in after I wake up." 

Simmons grumbled angrily under his breath and threw the offending toothbrush away, grabbing an extra one from under the sink. He'd had Kimball be sure to send them in bulk because he didn't trust Grif after what happened when they shared one side of the base back at crash site Bravo. It was always better to be safe than sorry. 

Once his mouth was clean, Simmons changed in the bathroom and went out to grab his shoes from where he had them neatly lined up by the door. 

"Sarge wants me to help him so I'll _actually_ be busy for most of today. It really just depends on when he gets tired or when he decides he wants to keep doing everything by himself again." 

"Okay, good luck with that. I'll be here."

As Simmons was leaving the base so he could track down Sarge to help with building the robot army, he ran into Church. 

"Hoh, hey! Simmons! Ya got a sec?"

"Sure!" Simmons jogged over to where Church was reloading his gun. Vaguely threatening, except they were on the same side now, and Church posed much less of a threat than Wash or Carolina. "What's up?"

Church slid the magazine into the grip and tilted his gun. "Just wanted to check in. Y'know. See how everything is going. Make sure Grif actually talked to you about that thing I told him to talk to you about like, a month ago." He looked down at the ground. "Man, the time really got away from me." He looked back up at Simmons, "Anyways, did he ever do that?" 

Simmons looked at him, unsure of what to say. "Uhm. Maybe? I don't know. We talk about a lot of stuff? Can you… be more specific?" 

"You know what, buddy? This was a bad idea. I should just ask Grif. If I try to be subtle I'll probably end up pulling a Caboose and that's a garbage fire I don't wanna deal with." He held his gun up and aimed at the target that was held up by a thick wooden pole. "Now, if I could just make a shot I could finally take a fucking break." 

Simmons looked at the target and it was completely empty of bullets. The pole and the ground, however, were littered in holes. "Target practice?"

"Yeah," he fired a shot and it went over the target, hitting a rock. "Goddamnit! Carolina said she was sick of me missing 'cause I was gonna end up shooting someone. So she stuck me out here. Told me to keep shooting until I hit it or run out of bullets." 

"How many bullets do you have left?" 

"Doesn't matter. I ran out of bullets an hour ago and she gave me more."

"Yikes." Simmons thought about helping for a second before he decided it wasn't worth it. "Well, good luck!"

"That's it?! You're not gonna offer to help?" 

"Nope! Bye, Church! Good luck!"

\---

Grif pulled up beside Sarge and Simmons with Tucker riding shotgun. Fuck. "Get in losers, we're going mudding." 

Sarge stood up with his wrench in hand. "Private Grif! What in Sam Hell is this? Can't you see me and Simmons here are doing some actual work?" 

Grif squinted at the obvious construction of Sarge's robot army. "Nope. I also don't care. Mudding, anyone? I don't know if you guys noticed but the other side of the moon had a wicked rainstorm."

"Get outta here, Grif. The real men are busy." 

Grif frowned but turned his attention to his friend. "Simmons?" 

Simmons considered his options. "Yeeaahhh I'm gonna have to call it a day, Sarge. My back is killing me from all the lifting I've been doing." He rubbed at his back and winced.

Sarge scoffed. "A bunch of pansies! Between you two and Donut, a lesser sargeant would have lost the war years ago!" 

"That's great, sir. Good luck with your robots!" Simmons hopped into the car with his friends and Grif sped off. "So, mudding?" 

"Yeah! It's this stupid sport where people drive their trucks 'n shit through mud! It's supposed to be a racing thing but we couldn't convince Wash and Caboose to race us," Tucker explained. "Well, we did with Caboose but Wash thought it didn't make sense and said that if Caboose tracked mud through Blue base, he'd have to clean it up, so he pussied out." 

"We could probably convince Church and Carolina if we talk enough smack." 

Grif turned the Polaris around and hauled ass over to where Church was taking his gun apart and throwing bullets all over the ground in a fit of rage. 

"Stupid fucking gun can't get a bullet to hit the target! It's bullshit!" He kicked one of the bullets at the target and _that_ one hit, which only seemed to piss Church off even more. "GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!" 

There was a lot going on there that no one wanted to address. 

"Yo," Grif greeted, "you wanna blow this shitshow and go get covered in mud?"

Church dropped the gun into the grass and heaved in a breath, turning to look at them. "Do I _what?"_

Tucker took the reins. "He asked if you wanna go have the best time of your life instead of killing your last two brain cells by having an aneurysm, dude!" 

"Did you just—did you ask if I wanna get covered in mud? _Why_ would I want to go get covered in mud? That sounds fucking stupid." Church seemed like he was cooling down, at least. "Then again, if you three geniuses came up with the idea then that makes a whole lot of sense."

Everyone was quiet.

"Sense as to why it's stupid. It's still stupid. It's just stupid because you three thought of it. Just so we're clear." 

"... Ouch, dude." 

"Shut up, Grif." 

Simmons stuck his head out the not-window. "We just thought you and Carolina would like to show us how it's done, but obviously since you guys are too chicken to race us, that means _we_ win by default." 

"Wait, win? Carolina? Fuck no! You guys haven't won shit!" Church turned towards the cliffs. "Carolina! Hey! You fucking bitch! Get down here so we can show these losers who the real kickass mud—mudders? Mud drivers? I don't—I don't even know! Just get down here!" 

Carolina came into view on the clifftop overhead and jumped an impossible distance down to the ground. "Mudding?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?"

"Shut up, Grif."

"Hey, I'm the one driving the car, Simmons! You don't get to tell me to shut up!"

"No, dude, he's right. Shut up." Tucker pulled himself half out the window and rested his arms on the roof. "Church, explain it. I already explained it last time." 

Church glared at him. "Dude, I don't know what mudding is. I'm only doing this because you managed to get my competitive streak going. What is this, you like, drive through mud? Try to see who can come out looking like the biggest piece of shit?" 

Carolina hip-checked him. "I know what mudding is. I was just asking because I'm surprised you guys care about that kind of thing." 

Grif raised his hand. "I'd just like it to go on the record that I care more than everyone else." 

Carolina must have been smirking at him, because it came through in her voice even though her helmet blocked it out. "At least now I know who's gonna cry like a bitch when we kick your ass." 

"Ooooho, shit!" Church high-fived her. "Now uh, give us a ride back to Blue base. We need to get our Polaris." 

Simmons slid over so they could get in. "Unfortunately, we only have one seat left, so you guys will have to share." 

"That's fine. Epsilon. In my lap." Carolina got in and snapped her fingers, pointing to her lap.

Church grumbled and got in, but not without bitching, "Hey hey hey, I'm not a fuckin' dog alright? You can't whistle and just expect me to fetch, okay? I'm a man. I led blue team before any of you motherfuckers showed up and I deserve respect." Church made himself comfortable in her lap and Carolina wrapped her arms around his waist to keep him steady.

Simmons covered his mouth. 

"Yo, Simmons," Church nodded at him. "What's with the stupid look?" 

The laugh burst out as Simmons uncovered his mouth to respond. "You—You look so small in her lap." 

"I hate you." 

"Down boy," Carolina instructed, and everyone could hear the smirk in her voice.

"What did I _just_ say about the dog shit?!"

\---

"I'm pretty sure we're going to crash and die." 

"Oh stop being a baby, Simmons." 

"I'm serious, Grif. This terrain is rocky and muddy and we've never driven over it before." His hands were clenching the seat and he had buckled himself in. 

Grif rolled his eyes. "Remember when we re-enacted that scene from _The Dukes of Hazzard?"_

Simmons gulped.

\---

When they drove out of the mud and back into grass and regular dirt, Simmons was about ready to kiss the ground. It didn't even matter that they'd definitely gotten their asses kicked, he was just happy it was finally over. He got out of the Polaris and layed down on the ground so he could feel the steady, solid strength of the moon's surface. 

He realized that he was in the perfect position to be mocked by Grif, but that Grif clearly wasn't here mocking him. Simmons looked around and spotted him talking to Church. 

He couldn't hear what they were talking about over the sound of Tucker and Carolina's screaming match, but from the looks of things, it was a serious conversation. It wasn't until Church slapped him upside the head that Simmons was on his feet and on his way over. 

"You're a fucking dumbass." 

"THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE TO _HIT_ ME!"

"WELL HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO TRY AND KNOCK SOME SENSE INTO YOU?!" 

Simmons tentatively put himself between them. "Hey, I don't know what's going on but I doubt whatever it is warrants hitting each other over it." He was frowning at Church because honestly, what gave him the right to hit Grif? 

Well… Grif probably does deserve it, but he was over here and defending him before he could really think about it. 

"I'm not even gonna say anything. Okay? Look at this." Church gestured to them both. "You're both morons and I don't want to hear about anymore of your bullshit until it's done with, capisce?" 

Grif slumped. "Yeah, I cuh-pisce."

Church stormed off and Simmons turned to Grif. "Was that about whatever he asked me earlier?"

Grif jumped to attention. "He asked you something?" He sounded frantic, and almost worried. 

"Yeah, uh… something about some thing he told you to talk to me about. Did we ever talk about it?" 

"No." The shame in his voice was overwhelming and Grif turned away. "I'm uhm, I'm gonna go get cleaned up." Grif walked off, ashamed and covered from head to toe in mud. 

Why does this keep happening? Why can't things just be okay for more than a few days at a time?

\---

That night, Simmons knocked on Grif's door. He didn't answer, but the door was unlocked and Simmons let himself in the same way Grif would have. Strangely enough, when he walked in, the room was clean and Grif was asleep in bed. At most, there was a bit of organized chaos and he'd messed up the bed by laying in it, but all-in-all he'd done a good job. 

That and the lingering scent of misery had him crawling into the bed and snuggling up to his omega. He pressed a kiss to Grif's forehead, because, well… he's asleep, so it's not like he has to own up to it. Even if that is. A little bit creepy, honestly.

He tucked his nose into Grif's clean hair and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simmons is like [kiss] "scientifically speaking ive accomplished nothing but id like to think i just guaranteed he'd have sweet dreams" and then tucks in. 
> 
> ANYWAYS sorry this chapter is short but we're entering the next phase and you get more men crying content. men should cry more and you cannot change my mind. i have a real soft spot for simmons' emotional bullshit in canon, like when church talked shit about him to his face bc hes so cute when hes feeling things. debatable assignment but hes a dummy little INFJ man and id put a ring on him in a heartbeat


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress? Progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hELLO im sorry the chapter is late. ive been having issues sleeping for the past few months (probably since i started anti-depressants?? back in like, february rip) where i can only get like, 2 hours at a time but wake up every time i toss and turn and i FINALLY got sleeping medicine from my psychiatrist and i conked out for 13 well-deserved hours and completely forgot it was friday, so... now its saturday
> 
> OH WELL, hopefully this chapter is worth the wait!

The next morning, Grif woke up to Simmons' face tucked in the crease of his neck and his hand gently rubbing at his shirtless stomach. 

Uhm.

What the fuck?

It wasn't bad but it made him anxious because he didn't want to enjoy it too much. It was _nice._ Warm, calloused hands from messing with tech and computers, Simmons at his back, the hot puffs of air against his throat and his nose way too close to Grif's scent glands. 

Grif whined in distress and squirmed out of his hold, which had Simmons awake in an instant. "Grif?!"

Anxiety made his arms break out in goosebumps and Grif covered himself up with his blanket since he couldn't curl in on himself very well. Been there, done that. More efficient methods required. 

"Fuck, I'm so sorry. I thought I'd hurt you or something. I'm sorry for being a creep but I… I couldn't sleep after what happened and we never got to talk about it so I—my alpha needed it." Grif could tell he was spiraling so he took Simmons' hands out of his hair and held them. 

"Simmons. I can't keep fucking doing this." 

Simmons looked confused and afraid, but Grif powered through it.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable after you said you didn't have a thing for anyone but shit, dude. I've been in love with you for years," he admitted, dropping Simmons' hands now, as if that admission alone made him unentitled. "And if that changes things then I guess they change because if I have to spend one more _god damn_ second acting like I don't want to shove my tongue down your throat and obliterate your ass with my pathetic chode of a cock, I'm gonna shit a fucking brick." 

Tears welled up in Simmons' eyes. "That's the least romantic confession I've ever heard."

"We'll I'm not a fucking romcom character, I'm a hardened war veteran who's done time behind bars, Simmons." 

He looked like he was really trying so hard not to cry, and he confirmed as much when he said, "No, I know but I guess I expected something else? And I told myself I wouldn't cry? I mean, I didn't actually think this day would come but if it did, I wasn't going to. What kind of alpha cries over something like this?"

"Shut up and cry, Simmons." 

Simmons nodded and Grif pulled him in, Simmons' face once again at his neck as silent tears rolled down in rhythm with the way his body wracked with silent sobs. Grif rubbed his back and Simmons hugged him tighter than he ever had to date. 

"I love you too-hoooooo…" Simmons wailed, clutching at Grif's back and sniffling. "I'm sorry I lied. I was so worried you'd ask me who I liked and then reject me because you were just fucking with me that one time in the living room." He inhaled shakily, and pulled back. He locked their fingers together and looked down at them as he kept speaking, " _And_ if I said someone else you'd probably have tried to get us closer and I couldn't take that. It would feel like you were trying to get rid of me or something and that's—"

"The last thing you wanted?" 

Simmons nodded tearfully and two more fell down his cheeks. 

"Yeah, I get that. Shit, now you've got _me_ crying. Fuck you!" Grif pulled one hand away to wipe at his tears. "I didn't know how to not make it weird afterwards, and then things got so…" 

"The weed?" 

"Yeah." 

He sacrificed holding Grif's hands so that they could stray to Grif's thick waist, the fat under his hands plush and enough to have a fresh wave of affection roll through him. It was nice to know that for every _fatass,_ Simmons didn't actually mind his fat. 

Simmons leaned down to give Grif a kiss and Grif kissed him back harder. 

Honestly, Simmons sucked at kissing, but at least it was Simmons. Some sins could be forgiven. Besides, it was only their _first_ real kiss. 

Actually…

Grif pulled away. "I should warn you now, I'm not a bottom."

"You're not?"

"I'm a switch at best, but you better be ready because I'm horny as fuck and you'll be doing the majority of the dick-wetting, if you catch my drift." 

Simmons squirmed. "Like—?"

"Like my dick up _your_ ass, yes." He shoved his nose into the crook of Simmons' neck, breathing in his scent right from the source. "You got a big brain. Ya curious?" 

"Y-Yes..." 

Grif bit his earlobe. "You'll get me all hot and bothered just by being yourself and once you've got me dripping, I'll finger you open with my own slick and pound your ass."

Simmons moaned and shuddered against him, leaning his weight in more like holding himself up was becoming a challenge.

Grif nosed at his scent gland. "Mmm… I don't think I ever told you that you smell like Easter." 

Simmons laughed a little, "What does that mean?"

"Chocolate and marshmallows. Like those little candies that come in egg and rabbit shapes. Makes me wanna…" he nipped at Simmons' neck and Simmons whined high in his throat. 

"Grif…" 

"Fuck, you're responsive." He nipped a little harder and then licked over it, his tongue making a lazy trail from its not-so-innocent nipping place and across Simmons' scent gland. If he wasn't weak before, he sure was now, because his breath hitched and he practically melted against Grif.

"Grif, I—" he pulled away, clearly reluctant. "Uhm—I want to do this right." 

Grif gave him a judgemental look. "What, like wine and dine me before we fuck?"

Simmons blushed. "Well, I—yes?" 

Grif's face got darker with his flush. "God, you're so…" 

"So…?" 

"You don't want to fuck yet but shit like that makes me wanna jump your bones."

Simmons shoved his face into his hands. "Jesus. I just want us to shower and get something to eat, that's all." He uncovered his face. "Is this where Kai gets it from?" 

Grif laughed, exaggerated and fake. "No. She's just a hussy. Our mom was a skank. I'm just horny and not a virgin. Theoretically, I would join their ranks, except fucking is a lot of work and I have better things to be doing than cleaning up jizz all the time."

"F-Fair enough." 

"Fine though," Grif leaned back to let Simmons go. "Get outta here and go do your morning routine. I'll be here making myself pretty and trying to ward off the temptation to wreck you."

Oh man, Grif could tell this was a lot more than Simmons bargained for. He got off the bed and instinctively stood at attention. "Yes sir! I mean—Grif!" _At ease, soldier._ "Yes Grif, sir! Not sir!" Simmons ran for the door. "That didn't happen!" 

Once he felt better, he got together a decent outfit and went into the bathroom to shower. He pointedly ignored the cracked mirror and got himself set up, clothes and towel on the back of the toilet, water warm and pressure perfect. 

As he stepped into the tub he was hit with that particular vulnerability and _difference_ that came with being in the shower. His mind immediately went to Grif as he reached for his shampoo, intent to think about something more comfortable than the idea of being naked in a glorified plastic container with only a thin glass door to protect him. But Grif… god, _Grif._ They'd hardly embraced the fact that they were dating and already it was better than Simmons could have hoped for. 

He was efficient about washing his hair and underarms, but as he got to his legs he became hyper aware of what was flaccid between them. 

He needed to wash his balls.

But he also kind of wanted to jerk off now.

Should he, though? They might have sex after their "date." Actually, if Grif has his way, they most _definitely_ will be having sex after dinner. So, no. Hands off his dick, wash the balls. Good. Great. What a game plan.

"Head in the game, Simmons." 

So yeah. No big deal.

\---

"Sooooo… how exactly are we gonna hide the fact that we're going on a date from everyone else?"

Frankly, it was a valid question. Iris had a surprising lack of privacy between all their nosy ass friends. Despite how roomy and luxurious their new bases are, there were just too many people everywhere. All the time.

At the moment, the two of them were standing in the hallway outside of Simmons' room. Simmons was feeling at least a little confident in himself, and he could see that Grif cleaned up nice too. Of course, they didn't really have dress clothes on Iris, but he'd picked out a baby blue shirt and a nice pair of jeans, and Simmons respected his taste. He had good taste. And if the way his jeans hugged his thighs made Simmons' mouth water a little bit, well, who could blame him?

"I'm glad you asked! I don't know how you can possibly take _that_ long to get ready but it worked out! I've taken the liberty of making us a picnic. I don't… know where we're going to actually have it yet, but I'm sure we can find somewhere secluded enough. We _are_ on an entire moon, after all." 

Grif seemed interested in the idea of a picnic, but he was his usual level of critical when asking, "Do you even know the circumference of Iris?"

Frowning at the question, Simmons opened the door and got the parcel he'd shoved everything into, save for the blanket which he put under his arm. He was trying to give himself time to think but he knew Grif wasn't going to be patient enough. It threw him back to the timed testing from Command, so he fell back on, "Shut up, Grif."

Simmons started down the hall and Grif followed him. 

"No basket? What kind of picnic is this?"

"We don't have baskets. Not aside from the one that Donut is weaving, but I think he got distracted trying to convince Sarge to let him repaint the living room." 

"Damn. So, what're we lookin' at? Sandwiches? Little weenies? Did you make little finger food, Simmons?" Grif was catching up with him, previously staying a step or two behind on purpose, and he bumped into Simmons as they walked. 

It was annoying, but also kind of nice. "It's a surprise. Just wait until we figure out where to go." 

Grif groaned, exaggeratedly put out by having to wait. 

It was quiet between them as they walked through the base and out the front door. Immediately, Tucker, Church and Donut were in their way. They paused for a second to assess what was happening and then they kept walking at a slow pace, trying to keep their distance to avoid suspicion.

"Simmons, you need to relax." 

He swallowed. "What?"

"You look like you're gonna shit your pants and if you don't act natural, they'll know something is up, man."

"Natural. Right. I can do natural." His mind raced for a way to act natural but nothing was coming to him. "Oh God, I don't know how to act natural!"

Apparently Grif had an idea though, because even if he pulled his punch, he still gave Simmons a decent hit on the arm. "Ow, my arm!" He tried to rub at the sore spot, but his hands were full and the best he could manage was a heavy-handed brush with the back of his fingers.

"You're such a baby, Simmons."

When Simmons went to argue back, he realized what Grif had done and he couldn't help the broad smile that made its way onto his face. "I'm not a baby, you're just an asshole," but his voice didn't have that characteristic bitter banter it would have had. It was so much softer and appreciative than that, and Simmons barely had it in him to be shy about it.

Grif noticed, too, because he looked at Simmons with a self-satisfied smile before his eyes wandered to the parcel in Simmons' hands. 

"Down boy." 

"But I haven't eaten in thirty minutes!"

"Thirty minutes? Weren't you showering minutes ago?"

Grif gave him a condescending pat. "Oh, Simmons, there's so much you don't know."

Simmons frowned, disgusted. "I _really_ don't like that."

Grif shrugged beside him. "Eh, you'll get used to it."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Simmons mumbled.

"Oh shit, dude, look! Those two rocks make like… a rock cubicle."

Simmons' heart fluttered at how cute the idea of a rock cubicle is. "That sounds perfect." 

They made their way over to the rocks and Simmons felt safe to hand Grif the picnic parcel. With his hands free, he spread the blanket over the ground and gestured to it neatly laid out across the grass. 

"Tada!" He added some wiggly fingers for a jazz-handy effect and flushed when Grif gave him a suggestive once-over before plopping himself down on the blanket. 

He opened up the parcel to reveal the fruits of Simmons' labor—quite literally, because he'd bagged up apple and orange slices. Along with that was a few sandwiches, some cucumbers with ham and cheese skewered with toothpicks and, of course, something processed and pre-packed, just waiting to rot Grif's teeth.

"Grif?" Simmons had to ask tentatively because Grif was just staring down at the contents and he had no idea what that meant. "Earth to Grif?"

"... Cucumbers?"

"Uhm, well—yeah." Simmons wrung his hands. "I'm not trying to change your diet or anything, I'm just health conscious and I didn't want to pack anything that wouldn't last while we found somewhere to sit. Is it—is it okay?"

"Ye-ah." His voice cracked and Grif cleared his throat. "Uhm, yeah." He wiped at his eyes and handed the parcel to Simmons. "Sorry, I just—got dirt in my eye."

"You're crying from both eyes," Simmons joked.

"Well I got dirt in both of them, okay?" Grif turned away to wipe his tears and Simmons put a hand on his back, rubbing soothingly as Grif exhaled shakily. "This is stupid," he said, after he took a moment to breathe in and out.

"No it's not. I get it." Grif was still turned away and it hurt somehow. "Grif, hey… look at me." It took a second for Grif to oblige but then he was looking at Simmons with a disgruntled expression. Simmons smiled sweetly at him and leaned in to give Grif a loving kiss on the lips. 

Grif squeezed his eyes shut and Simmons grabbed the apple baggy from their blanket. He pulled it open and fished out a slice, pressing it to Grif's lips. He opened his mouth before he even opened his eyes and when Simmons slid half of the apple in, resting it against the bottom row of Grif's teeth, Grif bit down. 

While he was chewing, Simmons kept talking. "Look… feelings are gross and we were friends before we were ever like, in love, so… Things are awkward and we kind of made everything way harder than it needed to be. It's okay to feel, uhm, whatever you're feeling."

"I know it's not actually stupid but dude, I—I've wanted something like this for a long time now and I have all these issues and sometimes I'd think, y'know, 'Simmons isn't gonna like you. You're a gross, lazy asshole who can barely face yourself or any of things going on around you, so what the hell would he want you for?'" The tears were falling faster now and it seemed like Grif had given up getting rid of them. "But you're in love with me back apparently so I don't even know—" he was reduced to tears so Simmons awkwardly pulled him close.

"Grif, you're not perfect but none of us are. I mean, look at me. You've spent enough years around me to know that I'm a neurotic mess. I'm picky and a know-it-all and I bitch _all_ the time. Fuck, I've betrayed red team _two_ times."

Grif chuckled, "I guess you did, huh?" 

Simmons hugged him tighter. "I overthink practically everything. I wouldn't say I was in love with you if I didn't mean it." 

"Fair enough." Grif hugged him back for a moment longer before he let go and wiped away the last of his tears with his sleeve. "Whoo! Now that that's out of the way, let's eat, huh? I'm starving."

"I forgot to bring plates." 

"Don't worry, I washed my hands." Grif grabbed for one of the little cucumber snacks and slid it expertly off of the toothpick. "We don' need anymore cheese here but I think it's funny that you packed healthy shit and _bottles of water_ to drink but then tossed in a single Swiss Roll for me." 

Simmons was stuck between being disgusted and laughing, so he settled for semi-stern. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Grif." 

Grif looked him dead in the eye and wordlessly shoved five cucumber snacks into his mouth, chewed just enough to make them a mass in his mouth and said, "Sowwy did you seh suh-hin?"

"God you're disgusting." And Simmons was returning Grif's earlier sentiment about shoving his tongue down Grif's throat, although… maybe not so immediately, since he was in the process of swallowing the whole mass in his mouth at once.

Grif made a pained face and punched at his chest as it was going down. "Yep, that one was a mistake." He reached for his water and chugged it down, making a face that Simmons knew was directed at the water. "Efficient but such a fucking letdown." He closed the half-empty bottle and tossed it down. 

"I hate you."

"I love you too, honey." Grif set his Swiss Roll aside and reached for one of the sandwiches. "Variety pack or standard?"

"I also hate that I know what you're asking. There's peanut butter and jelly and turkey with cheese." 

"Now I _really_ love you." Grif lifted the sandwich bag, paused and then shrugged. He took the sandwich out and bit into it. "Yesss, dude I got PB&J first try." 

Simmons buried his face in his hands. "And I really hate that watching you be excited about sandwiches on our picnic is driving my hindbrain insane." 

Grif smirked around his bite. "Oh yeah? You gonna mount me on this blanket and feed me? Treat me like your king, maybe?"

"Please," Simmons pleaded, curling further into himself out of embarrassment. 

"C'mon dork, eat." Grif whacked his arm with a sandwich and Simmons took it, relinquishing one hand to the task and leaving half of his shame exposed. "You're gonna need the energy later." 

Simmons shoved the sandwich into his mouth to avoid making another embarrassing noise, but unfortunately it wasn't that easy, because he was hot under the collar and there was no way for him to hide it.

"Fuck, you smell like cocoa powder when you're horny."

"I'm gonna die on this date and my date is going to kill me."

Grif frowned. "The only way you're dying on this date is if I suck your soul of your cock or fuck you until your brain turns to mush. Don't get ahead of me. I have plans, Richard." 

Aaaand now he was even hornier.

Grif smirked at what must have been an even stronger wave of cocoa powder because he said, "Yeah, we're gonna have fun."

And from there on out it was about what Simmons expected of a date. Maybe… a little less romantic than he may have hoped for, but then again, he's dating _Grif_ and they only started dating a few hours ago. 

It was pleasant. Fun. And somehow the fact that Grif pulled out a pistol and shot at the grass when it sounded like someone was walking by wasn't even enough to put a damper on that.

"WHY DID YOU BRING A GUN?!"

"I'M NOT LETTING THESE MOTHERFUCKERS RUIN THIS FOR US!"

So sue him… the sentiment was a little romantic.

Frankly, the most surprising thing about the whole exchange was that Donut hadn't fired back and nobody else had been drawn to attention by the random gunshot. 

On the way back, Simmons thought to ask, "Do you think they know what was going on since we shot at them?"

Grif shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe? I gotta be honest, I don't really care as long as everyone doesn't try to act like we're gross or the pet couple out of the group." 

Simmons snorted. "Yeah, like suddenly we're gonna kiss in front of them and wear matching shirts or something." But man… he actually kind of wanted to do that now. 

"Hey, don't diss matching shirts, dude. They have their place." 

Simmons squeezed the hand that was holding, "Oh thank God, I was worried you would agree."

Tucker was yelling at Caboose for something or other as they passed by so Grif lifted their joined hands and called out, "Bow chicka bow wow!" 

Tucker looked over at them, cupped his mouth and yelled back, "Fucking _finally!_ I'm telling everyone by the way!"

"That's the point!" 

Grif smirked and Simmons was as red as their base when they got inside. "You told him we're going to have sex."

"Yep." Grif dragged him down the hall to his room. "I like your room but all my shit is in here and I want your scent on bed. Now get in loser, we're doing a sex." 

Simmons got on the bed and Grif got in on the other side and patted his thighs once he was situated. "Get in my lap. You'll like it, I promise."

Simmons hesitated for a second but straddled Grif's legs. "I'm scared I'll crush you." 

"You're _fine._ Sit your ass down."

Simmons lowered himself and felt the solid press of Grif's legs against his ass. "This is… nice." 

"Yeah." Grif put his hands on Simmons' thighs, rubbing them in a way that was more reassuring than sexual. "Look, I know I've laid the horny shit on thick but if you're not ready to go all the way, we really don't have to. I don't wanna move too fast for you, and maybe going slow wouldn't be so bad." 

Simmons was tense in his lap. Tentatively, he rested his hands on Grif's shoulders and asked, "Not too slow, right? It took us like, ten years to get here and I don't want to wait another ten to lose my virginity."

" _God_ no. How about five years?"

He pretended to consider the offer. "How about one?"

"One sounds like a fair compromise, yeah." Grif's hands found their way to Simmons' neck and he gently rubbed at his neck glands. Simmons' hands clenched down tighter on Grif's shoulders and he choked out a moan. 

The sensation was practically teasing but it was still enough to have Simmons growing hard in his pants. "H-Harder." Grif's thumbs dug in a little bit more and Simmons moaned, unabashed and shuddering. 

"I swear to God—" Grif cupped the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, this time making good on his desire to shove his tongue down Simmons' throat. He was so unexpectedly pliant that Grif had no problem getting his tongue in Simmons' mouth and then he was specifically brushing their tongues together as much as he could. 

Once Grif was sure that Simmons was going to stay put, his hands were making their way to his chest so that he could pinch experimentally at Simmons' nipples. Simmons, caught off guard by the unique pleasure-pain accidentally rocked forward with it, his cock rubbing against Grif's. 

And shit. Shit, that was _good._

He rocked forward again on purpose this time, his lips disconnecting from Grif's as he tilted his head back to let out another deep sound. It was just getting good, which was what made it so confusing when Grif growled beneath him and stilled his hips with a rough grip. 

Simmons whined, confused and desperate, but Grif was resolute.

"Simmons…" 

"Mmm…"

"You whine like _you're_ the omega. Is that how you feel? Small and taken care of and needy?" Simmons whined again and Grif's answering grin said just how hot he thought that was. "Are you a pain slut, Simmons?"

"No! No it—feels good, _please."_

"That doesn't sound like ass kissing to me, private." 

"It feels good, sir." 

Grif raised an eyebrow. "The pain feels good?"

Simmons shook his head but words were failing him. He felt dazed and desperate and Grif was fucking with him but he wasn't _fucking_ him and that was a tragedy. "No, sir. Please, I—" Simmons offered up his wrist and Grif took it, hesitating for just a moment before he ran his tongue over the gland there. He teased at it, alternating pressure, doing figure eights, and it was ruining his alpha. 

When he sucked on it and Simmons moaned, clenching at Grif's shoulders like he was coming apart—and technically he was, because he was coming in his pants without warning.

He'd never knotted in all the times he'd masturbated—not outside of rut, anyways—so he got an even bigger surprise in the form of his knot swelling up in his pants. The keen that followed was pained and Grif was scrambling to try and help, shoving Simmons off of his lap and making quick work of the button so he could slide them off.

A warm hand gripped his leaking cock right around his knot and the relief was instantaneous. 

"Move a little?" The plea came through gritted teeth and Grif fisted a little tighter, moving his fist up and down the slightest bit. Simmons' orgasm pulsed harder and he trembled underneath Grif. "I'm sorry."

"No, hey, fuck. Don't cry. It's alright, it's not your fault." Grif tried to wipe Simmons' tears away but he only had one free hand at the moment. "Look, this isn't some bullshit 'sign' and you didn't fuck anything up, okay?"

Simmons was silent, his reluctance evident.

"Say it. I want to hear it." 

"This isn't a sign and I didn't fuck anything up." 

"Good boy." 

Simmons whimpered at the praise and Grif gave him a tender kiss to distract him. He kissed his cheek next and moved down to his neck, nipping and sucking to try and salvage the mood. 

"I know this sucks but you have to know how hot you are, Dick."

"All I did was whine and cum."

"And it was perfect. We had an accident but you were so good for me and you still are." He sucked lightly at the glands on Simmons' neck and hummed, releasing a wave of calming pheromones that helped some of the tension seep out of his body. "You're just sensitive and it's unbelievably sexy. Your noises are so pretty, Dick." 

His knot was going down in Grif's grasp and Simmons pouted. "I'm not pretty." 

"You're pretty if I say you are. Are you pretty?"

Simmons flushed. "Y-Yeah. I'm pretty. But… just for you. And don't tell anyone else," that last bit stern like he really meant it.

Grif kissed him again. "No way dude. Grif's eyes only from here-on out." He let go of Simmons' cock and stood on his knees. "I'm gonna get something to clean you up with. Don't freak out on me." 

Simmons rolled his eyes. "I won't." 

\---

After that, they ended up cuddling on Grif's bed while the TV played something they could have fun talking shit about in-between lazy kisses. 

It was such a relief to feel that urge to kiss and not have to hold himself back. Especially when Simmons was so willing to let Grif do practically whatever he wanted to him, so long as it felt good. And sure, acknowledging that they're in love doesn't stop the bickering, the disagreements, the insults or _even_ get Simmons to stop kissing ass entirely, but that's just part of their charm.

"You know the knotting is because we're compatible, right?"

"No, I had no idea about basic alpha biology and dynamic hormonal interaction."

"Okay smartass, I guess that means you also know we're gonna have to buy you a knotting sleeve too?"

"Wh-Whoa wait, what?!"

"Yeah dude, your dick wants babies and he's shit out of luck. We just can't have a repeat, for your sake."

Simmons sighed, resigned and cuddling closer. "Dynamics are stupid." 

"Oh 100%. Let's just casually take a page out of the koala book and see if we can't borrow something from dogs. Nothing could possibly go wrong having a bunch of dumbasses running around with cloacas and inflatable dicks broadcasting the fact that they're horny." Grif shook his head.

"Don't even get me started on the fact that scents are supposed to be a documented part of human biology, yet somehow some people have unnatural scents that align with man-made food when—from a scientific standpoint—that should be impossible, given that scents are hereditary." 

Grif pointed, "Yeah, and all of that! Plus my ass gets wet and while it's real great when I'm trying to get a dick up there as soon as possible, it makes watching porn or seeing a nice pair of tits really inconvenient."

Simmons was blushing, not that Grif could see in the dark. Still, his voice betrayed how embarrassed he was to admit that, "I kind of think it's hot though. Especially when they, well—"

"Gush?"

"Ye-ah." Simmons cleared his throat. "Especially when you can smell it. Which is why I'm really glad you changed afterwards." 

"Oho, you could smell my slick?" Simmons didn't respond and Grif chuckled behind him. "Next time you can taste it, how about that?"

"... I would like that."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons eats ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the second later chapter in a row but i had to babysit a friend of mine who's planning on getting divorced, and not only did i forget this, i also missed my therapy appointment, sO. we are just in it
> 
> anyways, not pictured: simmons freaking out about getting naked in front of grif. if my dumb jehovah witness simmons fic goes according to plan ill get to actually show that though!

"Is eating ass too far for a second date?"

"First of all, we've practically been going on dates for the past ten years. Second, I'm ass up and presenting and if you don't put your tongue in my asshole, I'm gonna roll over and take a nap." Grif was frowning at him from below, his hands clenched in the sheets and his ass leaking slick from their foreplay. 

Despite how hard he was from Grif's aroused scent and the sight of him presenting driving him crazy, Simmons was still anxious. It'd taken way too long for Grif to finally be able to convince him to take off his shirt and still, he couldn't plug up the constant flow

"I just realized you shit from your ass." 

"Dude I (washed) it for you."

"You did?" 

Grif groaned. "Don't sound so touched by the gesture, Jesus Christ. And please at least put your fingers in." 

Simmons did as he was told and put his pointer finger into Grif's hole. He was sloppy and loose, so he figured a second finger couldn't hurt, and he added his middle finger with it before he pressed them in. Grif let out a breathy moan and shoved back against his fingers, desperate for Simmons to actually _move_ them.

Getting the hint, he thrust his fingers forward and luckily managed to do it right when Grif was thrusting back, because Grif whined and tried to speed up. Clearly, he was doing something right. Even if it was by accident. 

Simmons pulled his fingers out and looked down at the slick glistening on his fingers. He smelled so fucking sweet, and while having his fingers coated in something that came out of Grif's body was definitely weird as fuck, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to put it in his mouth. 

"Simmons, I swear—" 

Simmons shoved his fingers in his mouth and grunted at the burst of sweet flavor across his tongue. It had just the slightest bit of a natural musk and Simmons felt his hesitation unravel like a yarn. He leaned down and spread Grif's ass with his hands so he could get better access to his hole, licking hungrily at the slick that was dripping down. He followed it up to Grif's rim and just tried to do his best. He'd never eaten ass before and Grif likely didn't expect him to be a pro, so…

He licked around the rim and teasingly let the flat of his tongue lick over it, relishing in the pleasured noises that Grif wasn't holding back. 

"Hnng… Simmons, put it in already." 

He was going to listen, but then Grif's hole clenched and a rush of slick dripped out. "Fuck, Grif. You're so wet." 

Grif whined high in his throat the way omega in porn often pretended to and Simmons felt his cock twitch. This was… kind of a rush. This made him feel like an alpha, finally. It was based on societal stereotypes, sure, but Grif desperate for Simmons to pleasure him and whining for _him_ was a different kind of high. 

It was everything like what he wanted out of replacing Sarge but _ten times better._

Simmons shoved his tongue in and was surprised by how far it _didn't_ go. 

Tongues are not long, but assholes are pretty deep, last he remembered. Still, there wasn't too much room to move around so he opted to thrust his tongue in and out, experimenting with the motion and realizing he was missing out on half the fun this way. He curled his tongue to try and get as much slick as he could but he accidentally ended up slurping as he pulled away. 

"Holy _fuck."_

Simmons startled as Grif abruptly got out of position and struggled to roll over. He backed up to give him some space and Grif was pulling him forward by the back of his neck into a dirty kiss as soon as he had oriented himself. His hands were all over Simmons and he was practically crawling into his lap, though their positioning was entirely wrong. 

Simmons tried to hold him up by his ass while Grif was busy sucking on his tongue and teasing at it with teeth. One hand roamed and he had a finger inside of Grif, thrusting shallowly and really trying to get more slick than anything else, though the broken moan that forced Grif to break the kiss was a great bonus. 

"God you're hot. I can't believe you slurped my fucking asshole. Who _are_ you?!" 

Simmons wasn't sure what to say, bringing his freshly slicked finger to his mouth and sucking on it. Grif gaped at him, probably floored by Simmons' audacity to keep eye contact with him while he sucked on his finger. He pulled it out with a pop, cringing slightly and wiping his spit off on the sheets. 

Sex is gross. Really hot! But really gross. 

Grif pushed him onto his back and Simmons had to lift in order to make getting his boxers off an easier job for him, since Grif was just… going AWOL. His boxers were to his ankles and then Grif was tossing them on the floor.

“Hey! Don’t just throw them on the floor!”

Grif ignored him and wrapped his hand around Simmons’ cock, which was definitely an effective way of getting any other questions or concerns to die in his throat. He looked Simmons in the eyes and then licked at the head.

"Holy shit!"

The smirk that followed was sexy as hell and then Grif was suckling the tip and teasing his tongue around the slit. Simmons—having never had his dick sucked before—instinctively wanted to put his hands in Grif's hair and shove him down, but something about the way that heady scent of coconut took up his senses had him fisting his hands in the sheets. The worst (and best) part of it all was that Grif was taking his sweet fucking time. He wasn't at all rushed to suck Simmons off, so he played with the head, bobbing shallowly over the first inch while his tongue made lazy circles. 

Simmons squeezed his eyes shut because between Grif's overwhelmingly aroused scent, the smell of his leaking slick and the unabashed way he was looking at Simmons the entire time, he was on the fast track to coming way too soon again. And y'know, maybe he could have lasted. He felt like he had it in him. But then the slick scent grew stronger and wet fingers were brushing against his balls before they settled on his perineum. His hips twitched which made the pressure there more intense.

He tried to start up a rhythm but Grif took the entirety of his cock into his mouth until the tip hit his throat and he swallowed. 

He didn’t stand a chance.

When Grif pulled off, Simmons opened his eyes to watch as his mouth was efficiently replaced by the knotting sleeve before Simmons could pop it. The pressure was tight around his dick and as his knot started to swell, he shut his eyes against the rush of his orgasm. 

He nearly choked when it ended and he felt Grif lapping gently at the sensitive head. He peeked out and groaned at the sight of Grif’s cheek and chin covered in his load. He was licking up the mess like he was licking his plate clean after dinner and it was so _unfair_ how sexy that was.

"Do you always come this much?" Grif wiped his face and licked his hand clean. 

"Sort of?" 

"Huh." Grif was on his knees above Simmons, and he was eyeing his chest with interest. "You mind if I scent mark you?" 

Simmons' brain short circuited. "Uh—huh." 

The way his voice squeaked at the end would have been embarrassing any other time, but Grif just rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to his lips before he started jacking off over his chest. Dribbles of precome fell onto his stomach and Simmons felt himself break out in goosebumps when his brain registered that this was hardly anything compared to what he was going to end up with. He watched Grif's face contort in pleasure as he jacked himself off and Simmons knew that this was it. It wasn't going to get better than being with Grif and seeing him like this; intimate, pleasured and gorgeous above him. 

Grif moaned lightly as he came, stroking himself through it. When his cock got oversensitive he let it go and took a moment to even out his breath, staring down at Simmons and his significantly smaller amount of come splattered across his abdomen. 

And then his hands were in place and Grif was massaging his own come into his skin. He spread it around with warm, steady hands, making sure to cover as much of the expanse of skin as he could before he seemed content. Simmons was preening a bit, knowing that he was worth making a claim and that Grif was dedicated enough about it to be so thorough when there were so many things he half-assed.

"Dick." 

"Yeah?" 

"Say you're mine?" 

Simmons wanted to hide his face, and fuck, why not? He shoved his face into his hands to hide himself from the full weight of Grif's intense gaze. "I'm yours." 

Satisfied, Grif flopped over beside Simmons and cuddled up close. He avoided touching his own masterpiece (if you could call it that) and rubbed what was left on his hands on Simmons' arm. 

Simmons looked up at him from the faux height difference his position on the bed gave him. "You're mine, y'know." 

Grif was quiet, his eyes shut. "Izzat right?" 

"Yeah. I love you, Dexter." 

Grif smiled. "I love you too." 

Simmons looked up at the ceiling. "Also sex is gross. And hot. My dick wanted round two as soon as you came on me and I don't think I like that." 

Grif laughed tiredly beside him. "Well, you're not wrong. Do you want me to clean you up?" 

There was something about his voice that made Simmons think Grif already knew the answer to that. "... No." 

"Just don't go out like that. You'll already stink like me and sex but trust me—everyone can tell the difference between when you're still covered and when you're not." 

Simmons' knot was deflating, otherwise he might have had more to say about that, but as it stood, it seemed like an interesting idea. Going out with Grif's come dried onto him and letting everyone know that he just got _laid_ and that _Grif_ did it. But then again, all their friends already know they're stupid for each other and there's only so much you can get away with before people start taking offense to your exhibitionism, so… maybe not. 

It's a nice thought, though. 

\---

"Ugh, you two reek like Girl Scout cookies," Tucker complained.

Grif and Simmons shared a look. 

"Is that what we smell like together?" It was definitely… an interesting smell.

"Duh, I wouldn't have said it if you didn't. You smell like those uh… what're they called?" 

Donut perked up, "Ooh! You mean Caramel deLites! I _love_ those! All of my friends back in Iowa really liked Thin Mints but—"

"I'm sorry, who the fuck suggested we play Monopoly? And who agreed because I hate this." Church had one dollar left and he was livid. 

"Yeah I. I don't know what's going on." Caboose had a neighborhood of houses in front of him that he'd set up like an unoccupied suburb. 

Church threw his dollar down. "And why did we let Caboose play?" 

Carolina was laughing behind her hand. "It's Monopoly Jr." 

"Goddamnit. And he got the dog piece! He doesn't even know how to _play_ and he got the _dog piece."_

Caboose held the little silver dog in his hand. "I just think that he is cute. He's a good boy, aren't you, Doggy?" He waited and when the dog didn't respond, he patted it with a finger. "Yeah, he doesn't have a lot to say but he is a good boy. Yes he is."

Church was giving Caboose a weird look, but Grif knew that shit from a mile away. Church _definitely_ wanted to bone Caboose.

… Not that he really had to Sherlock this shit in the first place because once again, their bodies betrayed them. The earthier tones of his petrichor scent spiked and the thunderous aggression beneath it seemed to recede.

Grif fake coughed into his hand, " _Morosexual."_

Church whipped around to look at him. "What?"

"Huh? Nothing. I didn't say anything." 

Church glared at him but didn't respond.

Grif shrugged as though guilt-free and Simmons elbowed him. Grif elbowed him back and then they kept going back and forth until Simmons got in a good one and Grif hissed in pain. “Fuck! Fine! You win, asshole!” And Simmons had the balls to be smug about it too.

“Does anyone else think that everything they do is more gross now that they’re dating? Or is it just me?” Tucker looked around at the table to Church’s so-so hand gesture, Caboose’s empty stare and Carolina’s helmet. 

Donut gushed. “I think it’s sweet! It only took them over a decade to finally do something about it! Besides, back in Iowa I had a cousin who was dating one of my other cousins and—”

“Oh-kay,” Tucker chuckled nervously. “Well, I think that’s enough Red team for me. Catch you guys later.” He tossed his money in and left the table.

Caboose scooped up his neighborhood and tossed it into the box. “Goodbye Tiny Cityville.”

“Wait, Caboose. Where are you going?” Because of course Leonard L. Horny was gonna follow after him. 

“I would like to make more friends! Not that there is anything wrong with you guys… I would just uuh… I would like to make more.” 

“Can I—well, is it alright if I—? Fuck it I’ll just say it. Can I come with you?”

Caboose lit it. “Of _course_ you can come with me, Church! We will make so many new best friends together!” He grabbed Church’s wrist and dragged him away. “We are going to have so much fun!”

“Y-Yeah I bet we are.” 

Grif made a face. “And they think _we’re_ gross?”

“That hurt to watch a little bit.”

Carolina laughed sarcastically from across the table. “You’re kidding, right? You two are almost worse than that because you don’t even have to ask. You just leave like you’re sharing the same mind and when you’re not bickering like a married couple you’re practically joined at the hip.”

Grif got indignant. “That’s not true! We’re not together all the time!”

“Yeah!” Simmons backed up, “Half the time I can’t wait to get away from him!”

Carolina took off her helmet and looked at them with the most bored and unswayed expression they’d seen to date. 

“Don’t take off your helmet just to give us _looks._ We’re not that bad!”

Her look somehow intensified. 

“Fine,” Simmons compromised. “We’re not as bad as we used to be. Before Red team was just us, Sarge, Donut and Lopez and they’re—you know. Now that we have Blue team to hang out with, there are way more dynamics, that just doesn’t change the fact that we’re best friends.”

“Exactly!”

Simmons nudged him. “Grif, don’t be my hypeman right now! You’re gonna prove her point!”

“But you’re _right!”_

“Well _we_ know that but look, she’s—wait no, Carolina. Don’t leave! We’re trying to defend ourselves!”

Carolina’s hips swayed as she left, not even bothering to look at them from over her shoulder. “You’re doing a terrible job at it!”

Grif and Simmons sat at the table where the remains of their Monopoly remained, since no one had bothered to clean it up. Simmons sighed. “I’ll put it away.” 

Grif stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Or… we could make out.”

“Or that. Yeah. We should do that.”

\---

“Are we gonna do that gross romcom thing where everyone pairs up?”

Simmons shivered in disgust. “I hope not! Who is Sarge going to date?”

Grif shrugged and snorted. “I dunno. Donut?”

The revulsion was evident. “Well, nobody would have to ask who the man and the woman are.”

“Dude.” Grif hit him lightly. 

“Are we not allowed to make those jokes if _we’re_ gay?”

Grif considered this. “Good point. I still hate the idea though. Sarge doesn’t even like Donut.”

“I don’t think Sarge likes _anyone._ Other than Lopez, I guess, but Lopez hates him, so how much is that really worth?” 

“Well, he likes you.”

“That’s because I was a kiss-ass. Sarge doesn’t think I’m alpha enough to respect me, and it’s because I don’t smell like Old Spice and the blood of my enemies.”

“You’re also not a hard-ass. You’re a dork. Maybe he’s right, you _are_ a pansy. You smell like Girl Scout cookies and make spreadsheets.” 

“Sarge is disorganized and I don’t respect that in a leader.”

Grif laughed at him. “Holy shit, dude! Your nose is all the way up in the air!” 

“I have a healthy ego!”

Grif ran his hand across Simmons’ stomach and put his head on the others’ shoulder. “You deserve a healthy ego. You are a big, strong, rocket launcher wielding alpha, after all.” 

Simmons puffed up beside him. “Exactly!”

Grif kissed his neck and smiled lazily. “You’re just a sweetheart. Nothin’ wrong with that, right, Simmons?”

Simmons’ face got red and he whined, “Don’t say it like that! I could totally be a hard-ass if I wanted to! But… I’d rather be nice than like, whatever Sarge is.”

“Old? Senile? Insane?”

“Well,” Simmons put his head on Grif’s, “That’s half of it, I guess.”

It was easy to rag on Sarge because they’d spent years under his command and in the past two weeks alone he’d been acting like he hasn’t acknowledged that Grif and Simmons are genuinely in a relationship. They held hands in front of him to make a point and all he had to say was, “What’s with that? What are you two doin’?”

_“We’re holding hands, Sarge. Y’know, like couples do? People who are dating?”_

_He was quiet and then he shook his head. “That doesn’t even sound right. I know I spent years jokin’ about the pillow talk and the fruity way you two act but you don’t have to do all of this just to mess with me.”_

_Simmons sighed, then. “We’re not, Sarge. We’re actually a couple.”_

_“As in… you’re—?” He made a fucking gesture with his fingers and when they agreed, Sarge’s revulsion was evident. “I need you two to stop this nonsense on the double! On the triple, if that’s what it takes! Now, I have my robots to keep working on and I expect this little charade of yours to be over with when I get done.” He left, hesitating only a moment to emphasize, “On the triple!”_

“I think he just needs some time to let it sink in,” Simmons offered. 

\---

From there, things only got weirder. 

When Simmons was trying to redo their chore wheel, Wash came up to him and started one of the most awkward conversations Simmons had ever had. 

“Hey, Simmons… Are you busy?”

“Well, yes, but taking a break means I get to work on it more later, so I’ll allow the interruption. What’s up, Wash?” 

He paused awkwardly. “You and Grif…”

Simmons sighed. “Is this another intervention? I told Grif I didn’t want to make out during the movie but then he tried to get handsy in the dark and—”

“Noooo, no, no. That is definitely not what this is about. Honestly, I’d like to just pretend that didn’t happen, if that’s alright.”

“Well that makes two of us. So what did you need, then?”

“Right. Uhm.” Wash shifted his grip on his gun like he was holding onto it for comfort. “I’m not… great at feelings.”

“Uh-huh…?”

“And so… I don’t know how to go about telling. _Someone._ That I have feelings for them.”

Simmons was dumbfounded. Wash liked someone on their team? Well, depending on how much Carolina considered herself “on their team” maybe that wasn’t an entirely accurate statement, but—well, that's if it even _is_ Carolina. “This is gonna sound stupid but honestly? Just tell whoever it is. Do it in some way you think you’ll get the point across but for the love of God, don’t lie about anything. Grif and I created enough drama on our own and with Church being himself all the time, we don’t need anymore drama.”

Wash sighed and dropped his tense stance. “I really don’t know what I expected.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, being awkward probably won’t hurt your chances. I’m awkward all the time and Grif just sort of rolls with it. Sure, he makes fun of me, but all we do is bitch together and at each other, so it’d be a really weird change in character if just because we—okay, rethinking my choice of words here—we’re still ourselves… Does that make sense?”

“A lot of sense. Thank you, Simmons. ... I guess that’s that, then. Now I just have to figure out how to do it.”

“Good luck! I lied like an idiot and dragged it out for a few months longer than necessary, so you probably can’t do much worse than that.”

Wash seemed doubtful. “You’d be surprised.” Wash whipped around. “Wait a minute. Do you smell that?”

Simmons sniffed the air and picked up on what was definitely the smell of something on fire. “Maybe Sarge is trying to smoke signal enemies to land on Iris again?” 

From the distance, they heard Grif yell, “GODDAMNIT, DONUT! ALL OF MY FOOD WAS IN THERE!”

“I’M SORRY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED!”

“Or not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted there to be more but unfortunately this was the neatest way to wrap it up and i was running out of scenarios to put them in so hwejnrvf but aaa thank you all so much for reading and i really hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
